


Dying is a Delicate Moment

by agarariddle_andhernachos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Badass! Hermione, But Not a Funny Fic, But not on purpose, Death Eaters, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Left Ankle, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Mr Voldemort, POV Hermione Granger, POV Tom Riddle, Pollux Parkinson, Powerful! Hermione, Running Joke, Slow Burn, So much angst, Tom Riddle / Hermione Granger - Freeform, Well Sometimes Maybe, Young Tom Riddle, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 78,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agarariddle_andhernachos/pseuds/agarariddle_andhernachos
Summary: "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.





	1. THIS IS WAR

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.

 02.05.1998

 

Screams were resonating through the devastated hallways. She could hear the cries of pain, smell flesh and blood. She didn't even know if it was hers. Flashes of colours were cast. Green, red, purple were mixing up for her to witness the most horrid shade she ever saw. If the adrenaline was not pulsing through her veins, her legs would have given away. The next thing she remembered was her skull hitting the cold floor.

 

All she could hear was a strident noise. She lifted her head, winced from the pain, and looked behind her. Black dust was falling all over the bodies. She thought she was seeing one of the Weasley twin crying and begging for death. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She crawled on the floor towards him, the windows fragments cutting through her pale skin.

 

Her entire body was covered in blood, she could not even distinguish the new one from the old. He was laying on his left side, she could not tell if the redness of his hair was due to the Weasley heritage or to the blood flooding from one of his wounds. She took his hand and squeezed it lightly. She was desperately trying to figure out which one of the twin was smiling at her on his last breathing moment.

 

“Seems like Umbridge was not the worst after all.” Hermione chuckled through the tears.

“I think she is still the worst Georgie” He replied dazing off.

It was Fred.

The next moment, the spark Hermione saw during the last seven years in Fred’s eye, this glint of mischief, was gone.

 

A hand grabbed her wrist and lifted her up from the ground. Her legs started running instinctively but her eyes were still focused on the lifeless body of someone she used to call a friend. As she turned her head, she saw the scarred face of her best friend. At this moment, she took the breath she was holding off for the past several seconds. The pressure on her wrist was almost hurting her, but the comfort of knowing Harry was alive and beside her overruned the discomforting feeling. They arrived in a deserted corridor and stopped in front of a flock of paintings.

 

“Snape. Snape memories. The pensieve” Hermione said rambling

“Dumbledore… He… He fooled me.” Harry answered breathlessly.

The look in his eyes, the tightness of his features and the tears on his cheeks sent a shiver down her spine. He grabbed her left arm and she could feel the warm touch of his hand on hers. A loud bang followed by the insane laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange brought her back to reality. She only had the time to push Harry out of the way before a fragment of ceiling fell between them.

  

“Harry !” She yelled his name as the wall of debris separated them.

 

She only realised then the grip she had on his glasses. She looked around her to find a way to reach her friend. The only things she could see were dust, bricks and paintings. As she kept screeching for Harry, she heard a chuckling voice behind her. She jumped around and stared at the wall, seeking where the voice came from.

 

“This way” She heard again, but this time more clearly.

  

She discerned a painting at the bottom left. A man in his twenties, with plastered black hair, a sneering grin on his face looked right at her. As she approached, she perceived the green robe he was wearing and Hogwarts in the background. Caught between panic and fear, Hermione called one last time Harry’s name. The agonizing sound resonated throughout the corridor only to fade away a couple of seconds later.

 

She felt like she could throw up a she heard Harry screaming. Without even thinking she got closed to the painting which just opened for her and hopped in. She found herself running in a long black corridor. She could only hear her steps on the stoned floor and her heart pounding in her chest. As she got close to the end of the passageway, she put her hand in front of her eyes trying to shield herself. She was expected the frame’s thin wood of the twin painting but came across a thick french door. She opened it. A bright light blinded her.

 

She blinked twice, looked around her, and saw the Great Hall in a perfect state.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

02.05.1942

 

 Laughs were reverberating in the huge room. The four long tables of each house were covered in food, treats and drinks. At the front of the Great Hall, the professors and the Headmaster were chatting enthusiastically. Large green flags were suspended from the enchanted ceiling. The slytherin table, at the center right, was cheering their consecutive Quidditch victory for the 11th time.

  

The large double door of the great hall opened in a loud crack. The students’ heads rose up from their plates and they stared at a thin backlit figure. Her black wand was in one hand and the other one held, in a tight fist, a pair of glasses. Her breath was shaky and heavy. Her hair was as dishevelled and bloody, as her clothes. She began walking slowly, as though she was afraid.

 

An oppressive silence settled in the Hall. The students, as well as the professors, were all staring at her. She seemed like she was about 15 years old. The undernutrition was visible on her features, hollowing her cheeks. Every inch of her skin was covered in dirt, wounds and blood.

 

“What… Where… How... ” She stuttered.

  

Her blood was dripping on the floor, leaving a sinister print behind her. Her eyes caught Abraxas’ one. She froze and started running towards him but slipped on her own blood. Her body hit the floor in a loud thud. The entire assembly gasped at the scene. The Headmaster Dippet rose from his seat ready to intervene.

 

She gripped Abraxas’ sleeve leaving a dark red stain on it while the staff body started moving quickly towards them.

 

“Malfoy ? The fuck you’re doing here” She yelled. “Why aren’t you fighting ? Why isn't everyone fighting ?”

“Get away from me you filthy..” Abraxas said

“Enough” Professor Dumbledore interrupted him.

  

Dippet, followed by all the professors, hurried by her side wands at the ready.

“Albus, tell the HeadBoy and HeadGirl to take the students back to their common room”. Professor Merrythought declared.

  

The girl was about to say something, but as soon as she heard the name Albus she closed her mouth and stared at transfiguration teacher.

  

“How did you get in ? Did Grindelwald send you ?” Dippet interrogated the skinny girl.

As soon as this name escaped from the headmaster mouth, a wave of panic spread through the hall. The whispers among the students grew louder.

  

“What … ? No !” She screamed as if she was offended.

She looked down at her hands and saw what she was holding to.

“The glasses… Harry ! I need to give them back to Harry.” She mumbled.

Slughorn took a step forward “The glasses ? Are they a portkey ?”

  

Before she could answer, she fainted.

  

\-----------------------------

  

“Armando, I can’t take care of her. We need to transfer her to St Mungo”

“Not until I’ve had all the information I need Leonara”

 

Her head was hurting from the amount of blood she lost. She could not open her eyes, but she could feel the soft linen under her skin. The sour taste in her mouth could only belong to the blood-replenishing potion. It had been months since she had laid on a comfortable bed. She could feel her right side burning as if it was on fire. She bit her lips not to scream. Adrenaline is a an amazing anesthesia she thought. She tried to recall how she got here. She remembered the Great Hall and a young Albus Dumbledore.

 

Where was she ? When was she ?

  

_What’s going on ? How did you end up in a bed ? You haven’t been in a bed for ages. It feels good doesn't it ? Not the point. What happened ? Why aren’t you hearing screams ? Why aren’t you seeing spells being casted ? How come you’re not smelling death ?_

 

Hermione, in spite of the pain, tried to think. To think about how she got in this bed. To think about where she was. To think about the era she was in. She knew for a fact that Armando Dippet was headmaster of Hogwarts in the forties. She tried processing what she had just heard.

 

_Focus Hermione. The last thing you can remember for sure is seeing Fred dying. Wait, Fred is dead. Think Hermione, think hard. You ran with Harry, the ceiling, Bellatrix’s laugh, the painting. Yes ! The painting ! You went through the painting, you ran for several minutes then… Then what ? A door ? Yes, a door ! And the Great Hall. Slytherin flags all over the room. A banquet. They were eating. How could they eat ? How could they sit in the hall and eat ?_

_They couldn’t. They couldn’t because it wasn’t them. It wasn’t Malfoy. It wasn’t him. But the features of his face, how could it not be him ? The blond almost white hair, the grey eyes, the pointy chin. Wait, he didn’t have grey eyes. That’s a Black trait. It’s Draco’s trait. Then… Lucius ? No… Abraxas ? The pain in her entire body, the cruciatus curse, the painting hanging at the malfoy manor. It was him. It was Abraxas Malfoy. Hermione, you can’t say a thing. Not until its coherent. Not until you have a backstory._

  

“What’s the date ?” She asked quietly.

“What’s that dear ?” A sweet woman voice answered.

“What’s the date ?” Hermione repeated louder this time.

“The second of may.”

“The full date.”

“The second of May of 1942” she replied, kindly.

  

She choked.

 

_The second of May of 1942. 1942. How ? McGonagall always taught me no one could be sent back in time that far. How come ? What are you going to do ?_

 

 If she was alone, she would have probably cried. She was terrified. She was stranded in an era that wasn’t hers with absolutely no idea on how she will come back to 1998.

  

_That bloody painting ! That must be it. Think. Think Hermione. What happened in 1942 ? Second world war in the muggle world. What happened in the wizarding world ? Grindelwald ! He tried to invade Great Britain, but didn’t succeed because of his fear and affection for Professor Dumbledore ! He couldn’t get into the United Kingdom. But he went to France. France ?_

_Beauxbatons ! Second of may 1942 ? The final attack on the Beauxbatons academy ! More than one hundred people died that day. Today. Could it be ? Could it be that simple ? Could it be your backstory Hermione ?_

  

“How are you feeling ?” The same soft voice asked her.

Hermione opened her eyes, and saw the infirmary basked in a soft light. Headmaster Dippet got close to her bed.

“Can I ask her questions Miss Asphodela ?” He asked.

She nodded. “Take it easy dear, I am right here if you need anything” She added to Hermione.

“How did you manage to get into the castle Miss ?”Armando Dippet demanded.

“Portkey…” She simply replied.

“You’ve had a portkey ? Where is it ? How did you get one ?”

 

Hermione’s head was hurting even more with the interrogation. Her heart was beating faster as she was afraid the headmaster would detect her lies. She heard footsteps and whispers coming from the other side of the room.

 

“The glasses. They are the portkey.” Hermione said in a cold voice staring at the Headmaster, remembering what professor Slughorn had assumed.

“Where are you from ?”

“Beauxbatons sir.”

Dippet’s eyes opened wide.

 

All of a sudden, the curtain around her bed flew open.

“Armando…” The nurse’s voice revealed her worry.

The old man turn aside and looked at her.

 

Hermione could see, behind the two, one boy standing straight, staring at her. He was tall and thin. Hermione blinked a few times in order to get a clearer vision. Her eyes laid on his face. His features were almost aristocratic, his eyes were so dark that she felt as if he was piercing through her soul. His hair, coal black, was slightly curled but styled perfectly. Another boy was laying on a bed beside him. He looked panicked, his breathing was unsteady and pearls of sweats were rolling on his forehead.

 

“What is your name ?” The headmaster asked her.

 

She did not know what to answer. She was still gawking at the two boys. The pain in her right side intensified with every breath she took.

“Miss ? Miss ?” He repeated.

 

The nurse got close to the boys and put her hand on the sick one’s forehead.

“You can leave us now, Mister Riddle” She said.

 

Her heart stopped. Hermione could not breathe. Her hands were clenching the sheet below her. Everything stopped for a couple of seconds. Her vision blurred. Then, darkness.

 

\-----------------------------

  

“I’ve never seen something like that Terence. Have you seen her ? Have you seen her arm, her scars ? No human could do something like that”. Someone whispered at the back of her room.

 

His posture. His face. His eyes. He was so far from what she remembered Voldemort in her own timeline, yet so similar.

  

_Riddle. How could you have not thought about it before Hermione ? He was here. Of course he was here. It was 1942. It was 1942 !_

  

For the very first time Hermione understood what it meant. A wave of panic spread in her body.

  

_Harry ? Ron ? They’re gone. I am gone. Everything is gone. You are alone and stranded in a time you only know about thanks to books. You are not only stuck in a different timeline, but you are stuck in his._

  

Hermione tried no to cry.

 

_He asked for your name. Dippet wanted to know your name._

 

Hermione tried to find, in the back of her brain, any french name that could match the situation. She found none. She opened slightly her eye, enough to see but not enough to be seen.  

  

“Do you have any news about the Beauxbatons academy ? What about the Hortenses’ ?” Another voice asked.

“I am so sorry Terence. I know you were friends with Professor Hortense and his wife…”

“They’re… They’re dead?” His voice was shaky.

The silence following the question answered every interrogations.

“And Grace ?” He continued

“Grace ?”

“Grace Hortense, their daughter. She was a student there. 4th year if I recall correctly”.

“I haven’t heard anything about her yet, but don’t get your hopes high Terence, it is a massacre over there”.

 

The door opened and one person left. She heard the nurse sight loudly. Hermione opened her eyes a little bit more. She saw a woman standing, her back at her, by the door. The latter opened quietly.

“How is she ?”

The nurse turned her head to face the newcomer.

“I hope she will be fine. We gave her everything we could for the moment, but it will take time for her to get better. Her right side is still in an alarming state.”

“And how are you Lisbeth ?”

The nurse did not answer immediately.

“Have you heard anything about a Grace Hortense? She was at Beauxbatons.” Lisbeth asked

 

Another silence. As heavy as the one before regarding the Hortenses’.

“Where is the body?” Lisbeth continued.

“We are not quite sure if she is really dead. As far as I know there is no survivor at the moment. But we won’t be absolutely sure until tomorrow morning.”

 

_The Hortenses’ ? Like the transfiguration professor ? What was his name ? Theodorus ! Theodorus Hortense, dead in 1942 along with his wife, Beatrice, muggle studies professor. What about their daughter ? Think Hermione ! Fuck, you don’t remember them having a daughter don’t you ? What’s the point of reading that much ancient newspapers if not to remember important information !_

_Focus Hermione. There was nothing about their daughter. You actually never read something on her. Maybe they never found a body. Maybe you could use that in your favour. You need to go to Beauxbaton. You need to go there tonight. But how ? You can’t apparate that far ! Think._

 

Hermione waited in the darkness for hours, before she could not hear anyone walking in the hallway of St Mungo. She knew what she had to do.

 

 

\-----------------------------

  

Her footsteps were resonating on the marble floor. She got a quick glance at her look as she passed by a mirror. The image of her, in Bellatrix’s body, sent a shiver down her spine. She had remembered the polyjuice potion and one of the witch’s hair in her purse. She approached the floo system.

  

“Excuse me ! Excuse me !” She heard behind her.  

She turned around. A small fat man was running towards her.

“What are you doing ? How did you get in the Ministry ?” He asked.

“I need to go to Beauxbatons” Hermione replied in a french accent.

“You can’t go without an authorization…”

“I am a French Auror, I can do whatever the fuck I want ! Aren’t you aware of what’s going on over there ? They need me !”

  

The small man seemed scared. Even Hermione was surprised by the tone she used. She turned to face the chimney, took a full grip of floo powder, stepped inside and said “Académie Beauxbatons”.

 

She arrived in a small room. The night was already dark and she could not see a thing. She cast a lumos and looked around her. The room, surprisingly, was not in too bad of a shape. Hermione tried remembering what professor Binns had taught them about the Beauxbatons siege. The students had been under Grindelwald control for months, suffering from lack of food, before the final attack.

 

She opened the door and found herself in a empty corridor. She cast a lumos. She stayed where she was. She could not move a muscle. Without even realising, tears were rolling on her cheeks. She had never seen such a massacre. She turned her head to the right. She saw piles of corpses lying. She could not differentiate the limbs. The blood, emanating from the cadavers, started to dry and emitted an acrid smell.

 

The only thing she could see, smell and focus on, was death. The horrid death of hundred of people, children. As she started moving, a hand on her hip to press on the pain from her right side, her legs began to shake lightly.  She put one of her other hand in front of her nose and mouth. She could not bear the smell of exposed flesh any longer. If she could close her eyes and keep moving she would. She turned into another hallway, the debris of wall were spread on the floor.

 

As she lowered her wand, something caught the light and dazzled her. She moved her source of light and bent over. A frame was laid on the floor. She took it in her right hand. The glass above the picture was broken. She blew on it to remove the dust. She saw a girl, about 15 years-old with chestnut hair and green eyes, a smile on her face. “Grace Icaria Hortense, Club de Métamorphose, Vice-Presidente”.

 

Hermione eyes flew open. Here she was. The solution was in front of her eyes.

She looked around her, wanted to find Grace. Or at least Grace’s body. She started running in the corridors, pointing her wand towards each body that was on her way. Then she found his.

 

Theodorus Hortense. Both of his legs were broken, and blood was escaping from his mouth. Hermione turned away from the body and took a deep breath. She was about to throw up. She moved away, her right hand was holding the wall. She sobbed. She wiped away the tears. She saw a hand with a signet ring underneath a pile of corpses. She was intrigued and crouch down to get closer. She held her wand tightly, and cast a levicorpus to move the students’ lifeless bodies. And she saw her. Her eyes were closed and Hermione could not see if they were green, but she knew deep inside of her that Grace Hortense was the remains in front of her.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Hermione was shaking. The fire’s heat could not warm her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” She repeated to herself between two sobs.

She did not only burn Grace’s body that night, but also the tiny part of innocence she thought she still had. As she watched the real Grace disappear in ashes before her eyes, she took a deep breath, put the ring on and rehearsed her speech in her head.

 

 

“My name is Grace Icaria Hortense.”

 

 

 

 


	2. WELCOME HOME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> ___  
> Song : Welcome Home by Radical Face

   16.07.1942 

 

He never really liked reading _The Daily Prophet_. He did it because he had to, but never enjoyed it. Today was no exception. With one elbow on the window, he was staring at the paper in front of him.

 

**“Still quiet ?”**

 

**It’s been more than two months since the attack on the BeauxBatons Academy, yet still not a word from the only survivor : Grace Icaria Hortense.**

**As we visited her home in France, we saw the proof of her existence surrounded by love and friendship. Pictures of her and her parents. Her wild chestnut hair, her dark brown eyes and a grin plastered on her face. Following the steps of her parents, Grace excelled at the Academy in particular at Potions, she was late professor Antoinette Lebon’s favorite. But also at Transfiguration as she was the Vice-President of the prestigious “Association de Métamorphose” (Transfiguration Club).**

**How come the talented witch had not said a word yet ?**  

**To read the full article, turn to page 23.**

 

He did not need to read more. He carefully folded the newspaper and put it in the drawer of his desk on top of others with Grace’s face on the cover.

She was everywhere, he thought.

 

_It’s been months, how come the newspapers are still talking about her ? She did nothing extraordinary, there is no glory in surviving._

_How come she is the only survivor ? How come she survived at all ? I’ve heard some things about what happened at the Academy. It is merely impossible a 4th year would have escaped._

 

_The level of dark magic detected was above everything Aurors had seen before._

_She had scars, she was covered in blood. She must have fought. She does not have the capacities to duel with experimented dark wizards. Getting good grades in potions and transfiguration does not help in a real war. It merely helps at all._

 

He exhaled loudly. The more he thought about the situation, the more laughable it became. There is no way she could have survived all by herself. He saw her, he saw how fragile she seemed. Something was not right, he felt it. He looked outside the window and stared at the boys playing in the playground.

  

 “Pathetic” he judged.

 

_She knew Malfoy though. He told me he did not know how she knew him. He is not smart enough to lie properly, so I believe him on this one. She asked him why he was not fighting. Is there a Malfoy at the Beauxbatons Academy ? Probably knowing this family, but even if there was one in France, he would not have fought, cowardice runs in their veins._

 

\-----------------------------

 

24.07.1942

 

Summer 1942 in London was suffocating. Whether it was sunny or cloudy, the heat was dreadful. Wool Orphanage was no exception. Mrs. Cole was urging the boys to stay in the shade and hydrated. Tom was sat under a willow, staring at the boys playing football near the pond. He heard the stern voice of the director calling him “Riddle ! Special mail for you !”. He rose up and walked towards her. She handed him a beige envelope.

From the moment she said the word “special” he knew it was from Hogwarts. She always had undermined the school, from the moment Dumbledore had walked through her walls. Tom could not care less about what she thought.

As he took what was his, he heard the other orphanage residents laughing at him. He opened the letter and skimmed through the content. _5th Year Prefect_ was written at the bottom of it. He rose an eyebrow and smiled lightly, unimpressed.

 

Mrs. Cole called all the boys to dinner.

“Oh you’ve received special mail from your special school because you are so special Tom”. He heard a boy named Grant say behind him.

 

Tom’s blood boiled in his veins. He slowed down to walk at the same pace as Grant. While everyone turned left heading toward the dining hall, Tom shoved Grant to the right, in an empty room.

“What the…”

Tom slammed the door and moved forward him, an evil grin plastered on his angelic face.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11.08.1942

 

“Grace broke her left wrist on the 3rd of February when she was eight”. Hermione whispered, sat at the counter of the Leaky Cauldron.

She looked down her flashcards and sighed angrily.

“Shoot ! No… _Merde_!”

She dropped, exasperated, the cards she was holding, on the table. On one of them was written, in her perfect calligraphy : _Broke her left ankle on the 03.02 (8y/o)_

 

_Seriously, is someone really going to ask you if you broke your bloody left ankle ?_

 

She had been working on her background story for months. After that night, she knew she had to handle more. She went to the Hortense’s house, she erased every memory of Grace, every pictures of her, every proof of her existence.

 A simple spell, thankfully created in the 60’s, had allowed her to replace Grace’s face by her own in every frame. She took the time to search for all necessary documents she may need : medical records, correspondences, bank statements, Hortense’s family books, photo albums and other belongings.

 

“Miss Hortense ? Have you taken your medicine tonight?”

Hermione was startled and rose her head, almost ready to take out her wand. As soon as she saw Tom’s face, the Leaky Cauldron’s bartender, she eased up a little.

“Tom, how many times have I told you to call me Grace ?” She answered with a light smile on her face, while scanning the room.

It had been hard at first to use the name Grace, but it became simpler over time. Still did not felt right tough.

 

She covered the flashcard with her left arm. Tom’s gaze flew over her scar.

It was not only the “mudblood” scar he was looking at, but also the deep scratches on it. Hermione did not want to cover her scar with magic. She just wanted it gone. So, she had tried to erase it by herself. Muggle way. Nails and blood.

The first month she bled. Her nails dug so deep in her skin that the floor beneath her turned red. But she realised it did not erased the word, so she hid it. Underneath long sleeves. In june, she used magic, she thought it could disappear with a flick of a wand. It did. For a day. Then she had to cast it again.

  

So, the third month, she stopped trying. She left it there. And every time she looked at it, she saw her face. But, at least, it reminded her of her future, her fight, her goal.

 

“I’m fine Tom. You don’t need to worry about me.”

_You’ll worry enough in the future._

  

The French Ministry had suggested her to stay in the country and to pay for any expenses. Hermione kindly refused as she needed to stay in England to execute The Plan.

 

“I will always worry about you Grace” He smiled kindly at her. “By the way, you’ve received mail”.

 

He reached for the letter behind the bar and handed it to her. As soon as she saw the beige envelope and the red seal, a warm feeling spread through her body. She opened it. The excitement, the one she felt when she was eleven years old while opening the same envelope, rose in her chest.

She knew it was going to be different, harder, but knowing she will be back at Hogwarts, even for a short while, comforted her.

 

If she followed The Plan.

  

It will be _okay_.

 

She was not expecting more than the formal letter of admission, but found a second one. She recognized Professor Sulghorn’s handwriting. She chuckled.

 

_Seems like Step 1 will be easier than expected. _

 

\-----------------------------

  

15.08.1942

 

“ _Excusez-moi !_ Hm..Sorry. Do you still have Hogwarts’ fifth year potions book ?” Hermione asked the bookstore clerk at Flourish & Blotts.

“Name of the book” He answered rudely.

 

She opened her bag to reach for the letter. 

_You should really organise this mess, Hermione._

 

“Well ?” He asked impatiently

“OWLS Level Potions Making by Billius Asphat” a male’s voice answered for her.

She turned around. Was standing in front of her, a 15 years old boy. His olive skin matched perfectly his green eyes. His brown hair was a little mischevelled.

 

“Thanks” She said.

“You must be Grace” He answered.

 

_Ok Hermione, it’s time. You’ve learned your story, you know everything you need to know about Grace. He is not going to ask questions about your supposedly broken ankle. And even if he does, you know the right answer now, right ? Left ankle, left ankle, left ankle. Ok, you got it. Everything is going to be fine._

 

“Still quiet ?”

_Left ankle, left ankle, left ankle_

 

“Sorry, I tried to be funny.” He rambled. “You know the article…”

“Left ankle” She answered.

“What ?” He smiled

_Good Job Hermione. You really killed it._

 

“What?” She parroted.

“Let’s start over.” He chuckled. “I am Thorus…”

_Nott ?_

 

“Nott” He added. “I am hurt you did not recognize me as you did Abraxas”. 

Hermione mouth opened slightly, agaped.

“Too soon ?”

_Theodore's father ? Grandfather ? No, father._

 

Hermione knew for sure that the Notts were to become one of the most important Death Eater family in the years to come. From the moment she got her acceptance letter, she was aware she would have to interact with soon-to-be Death Eaters. Still, she was not pleased by that. But the young boy in front of her made her feel oddly at ease.

 

“...trauma ?”

“ _Comment_?” She finally said.

  _Pay attention Hermione !_

 

“Oh ! You speak only French. Well that explains a lot…” He spoke quietly to himself.

He exhaled and kept going :

“Je s’appelle Thorus Nott, ma français pas être good”

“Aren’t all purebloods supposed to be fluent in French ?” She said.

 

“So you do speak english !”

A smile spread on his face. There was no doubt he was Theo’s father. They had the same smile, a genuine one. Hermione started remembering the Slytherin. They had never been friends, but Theo was bearable, if she may say.

They had Arithmancy together since third year. He was smart, brilliant even. Sharing a classroom with Slytherin was always difficult, but Theo never spoke badly of her, at least not when she was here.

 

Thorus smile did not disappear.

 

“So it is because of the trauma you were not speaking”

She did not answered. She looked at him strangely.

“Too soon.” He finished, nodding his head a little.

 

The shop assistant reappeared and gave Hermione the book she was looking for. She opened her mouth to ask for another one, but he turned his back at her and walked away. She heard Thorus laughing quietly.

 

“Seems like you are missing the Transfiguration Book”. Thorus said.

“How do you know ?” She snapped  “Have you been following me?”

 

He laughed hard.

 

_Theo definitely got his attitude from his father._

 

It warmed her heart to find something from her future in the past.

 

“Come on Grace, you have the books for the entire curriculum in your arms. Anyone with eyes, a functioning brain and deductive skills could have noticed you are missing one”.

 

_Hermione, it is not war anymore. Or not yet. Snap out of it._

 

He reached for the book from the shelf behind her.

 

“So you are going to Hogwarts.”

“Use your deductive skills, Sherlock” She answered.

“Sherlock ?” He seemed lost.

“It is a literary reference. You know books. Paper, Ink…” She said ironically.

 

She fake smiled at him and walked toward the checkout. She put down her books and looked in her purse for money.

 

“2 galleons and 5 sickles”.  He said dryly, without even look at her.

 

_Quite cheap comparing to the nineties. If only you could be Hermione for just a second. The librarian deserves to be reminded of the “3P” : Punctuality, Patience and Politeness._

 

As she handed the money, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Thorus behind her.

“So, you are following me!” She said as she turned around to face him.

He only smiled. He put the book he had in his hand on top of her pile.

“This one is on me”. He said to the cashier.

He put 2 galleons on the counter.

 

“Keep the change”. He added.

 

He took the entire pile of books and headed toward the exit. Hermione followed him rapidly.

 “I can carry my own books !” She told him once they were in Diagon Alley.

“A gentleman never lets a young woman carry heavy books.”

 

She huffed.

 

“Where to next ?” He said looking right at her.

“I need a wand”.

 

He stopped walking. He observed her silhouette. She was wearing a white blouse, tucked into a thick smooth dragon leather navy blue pant. Her wild hair was mostly hidden underneath a light gray felt capeline hat. She had a firm grip on a small purse which was over her shoulder. A black curved wand was tucked into her holster on her left forearm. He looked confused at the wand.

 

“Another wand” she added rashly.

 

He nodded and they resumed walking. He told her she needed to go to Ollivanders.

As she walked, she looked around her while playing with her ring. Diagon Alley was the same as she remembered before her sixth year. Florean Fortescue was here. His shop was opened, and people were chatting while being sat at his terrace. As she looked at the store, she remembered the ashes, the dark mark and the loss of her innocence.

 

The last time she had been there, she had felt sick. Everything was grey, sad, and lifeless. The few ones, brave enough to get out, were walking fast, eager to get home. It was probably the first time since she arrived in 1942 that she was happy to get somewhere. She knew she could get an ice cream, get a part of her childhood back.

Thorus sent her quick glances at her and he then realised she went through hell and back. He knew, from the way she was analyzing every movement, every sound, from the way she walked, on the ball of her feet, he knew she will never feel safe.  

 

They arrived in front of the shop.

“Thank you. I can handle it from here”. She said while taking her books back.

“Fancy a bite after your purchase ?” He asked.

“I am not really hungry”.

 

He looked at her, top to bottom.

 

“Even if you are not hungry, you should probably eat something.” He told her amused.

“And you call yourself a gentleman.” She scoffed.

 

She entered the shop and briefly looked back. He was gone.

 

 _ Step 2 _ _: In process_

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

28.08.1942

 

Someone bumped into him. He heard the sound of books hitting the ground. He saw a young wizard, about 11 years old, crouching down to gather his belongings. Tom would have not helped him if it was not for his image. He grabbed two books, and handed them over to the boy.

 

“I am so so sorry”. The young boy stuttered.

 

_You better be._

 

“Don’t worry about it. It happens. But be careful next time. You might bump into the wrong person.” Tom replied, a fake smile on his face.

“Oh, you’re a student at Hogwarts ?”

 

The boy was admiring the green prefect badge Tom was wearing on his pristine shirt.

 

“You’re in Slytherin. I hope I will be sorted in it”. He continued wishfully.

“Everything is possible if you really want it”.

 

_You are so going to be a Hufflepuff._

 

Tom took off before the kid could even mutter another word. He headed toward the apothecary to get his potion supplies. He stopped in front of the shop.

 

_Do I really need ingredients ? No. Slughorn’s going to give me everything I need. It is too easy to fool a naive professor just by playing the orphan card._

 

An old witch opened the door to the tearoom next door to get out. A recognizable giggle escaped from it. Tom turned his head and saw through the window his potion professor laughing like a schoolgirl. He got closer to discern who he was laughing with. After seeing her on the covers of every newspapers this past few months, he automatically recognized her.

 

_What.. ?_

 

Slughorn was laughing so hard, it made the table move from his huge belly. The porcelain sugar bowl began falling, but the waitress quickly reacted and stopped it using magic. She threw him a knowing look and he winked at her. Tom’s gaze fell on her.

 

_Bloody Horthense. What is she doing with him ? Do they know each other ? It looks like it. Does it mean she is going to Hogwarts ? Does it mean she will be a fifth year ? Why haven’t I thought about it before ? In which house will she be sorted into ? The papers said she as in Ombrelune at BeauxBatons. This means she will either be in Ravenclaw or Slytherin._

 

The time, on the clock in the tearoom, brought him back from his thoughts. He was late. The orphanage’s curfew forced him to go back. He knew he will get to the bottom of this story.

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

28.08.1942

 

“Of course, I would love to take you as my apprentice”. He said between two sips. “Could you remind me the grade you’ve gotten at your OWLS potions? Oh no, you’ve gotten an Outstanding right ? Of course you did. And you have taken it a year early ! It is impressive. Aren’t you the one who taught the examinator a new use for Asphodel ? Marvelous ! I would have loved being there…”

 

_Does he ever shut up ?_

 

“...Would you like to?”

Hermione felt his gaze on her. She rose her head and stopped playing with her ring.

 

_What ? You should really start listening to what people are saying Hermione._

 

“Of course, I would love to”. She answered quickly.

 

_What the fuck did you just agreed to ?_

 

He smiled and looked at the clock behind him.

“Oh sorry dear ! I did not realize it was so late. As they say, time flies when you’re in good company !” He winked. “I have an appointment with the Head of Law and Enforcement. Did you know he cheated on his wife ? You didn’t learn it from me.”

He winked. Again.

 

_Still a gossip I see._

 

They rose from their seats and headed out. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the loud voice of Slughorn.

“Milton, how are you doing my boy ? Have you put on some weight ? Is Tom with you ? It is such a beautiful day to be shopping !”

“No sir, he had to head back...”

 

Hermione turned around and saw seven figures. One of them, was stepping forward while talking to Slughorn. He had long black curly hair covering his eyes.

 

“How tragic !” Slughorn cut him.

 The six boys snickered behind Milton. The latter turned around and muttered “I did not gain weight, it’s muscle. I’ve told you already !” 

“You wish”. One of them replied laughing.

 

Hermione recognized the blond, almost white, hair and the pointy chin.

“Grace, my dear, let me introduce you. Those are the finest boys of my house. Oh, didn’t I tell you ? I am the head of Slytherin !” Slughorn told her.

 

_Only about a million times._

 

She stepped forward and recognize Thorus.

 

“Hello again miss Horthense” Thorus said while bowing.

“You already know each other ?” Slughorn smiled. “How marvelous !”

“We met briefly a couple of days ago” He answered.

“He has already met her ?” Milton asked quietly.

 

“Let be briefly introduce you.” Slughorn told Hermione. “Apparently, you already know Thorus, really good at transfiguration that boy. Oh just like you ! This is Abraxas, you know the Malfoy family don’t you ? They have a lot of relatives in France. How tragic what happened there. Oh, silly me.”

 

He sent her an honest apologizing look.

 

“Here are Edmund Rosier and Edgard Lestrange” He continued. “Both on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Thanks to them, we’ve won again this year. Isodor Avery, oh come on Avery, don’t be shy, he is really good at Arithmancy. Maybe you know Antonin Dolohov, he has family in France, he is really creative with spells...”

 

_Oh don’t you know Hermione. You have a proof of his creativity all over your chest. Nice to see you again. Looking forward to knowing you better Antonin._

 

“... And this is Milton”.

 She got closer confidently, a smile plastered on her face.

 

_It’s time Hermione. Step 2  : Done. _

 

“Grace Hortense, _enchantée_ ”

  

\-----------------------------

  

01.09.1942

 

Hermione was playing with her wand nervously. The light acacia wood, stranded with thin golden brown filaments, was spinning in her hand. She remembered clearly her visit at Ollivander’s :

“How peculiar ! Fifteen and a half inches, acacia wood, rigid and phoenix core. Interesting combination.” She recalled him saying.

The last first year sat down at the Hufflepuff table. She turned her head towards it, expecting to see Hannah Abbott’s almost red hair.

 

“Grace Hortense” She heard Dumbledore say.

 

She approached slowly. Every step she took reminded her of the time she had spent walking in the great hall. She could hear, in her head, the voice of Ron whining about Malfoy. She could feel Harry’s arm on her shoulder. She could see Ginny’s bright hair sitting at the Gryffindor table. She stopped thinking because she knew it would break her even more.

 

She sat on the stool. A young Albus Dumbledore put the Sorting Hat on her head.

 

“What do you want me to call you ? Grace or Hermione ?”

 She gasped. She then realized that the entire room was staring at her.

“Ombrelune or Gryffindor ? You don’t need to answer. I know who you truly are.”

 Hermione was repeating the house she wanted in her head.

 “Why so eager ? There never was another possibility.”

 

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

01.09.1942

  

“Slytherin !”

The entire table applauded.

 

_Of course she is in Slytherin._

  

Tom looked around him and saw his entire house clapping eagerly. The girls from fifth year were already scooching over to save Grace a sit. Grace was walking towards the table, full of confidence and a smug smile smeared on her face. Instead of sitting next to the girls, she got closer to him. She stayed still in front of the boys for a couple of seconds, while they moved to let her sit. She settled next to Milton who was across from Tom.

 

“Told you, you’d be sorted into Slytherin Gracie” Mitlon smiled at her.

_Gracie ?!_

“Fuck me” Isodor said to himself loudly.

“Hand over the money Avery. I’m so getting this new broom.” Edmund Rosier chuckled.

  

Isodor rose from his seat and gave Rosier 10 galleons.

  _What is happening ?_

 

“So you really had the guts to get into the snake pit”. Abraxas spat at Grace.

“No shit Sherlock”. Thorus, who was sat next to Tom and in front of Grace, smirked.

 

_He knows Sherlock ? Since when does he know muggle literature ?_

 “So you’ve read it” Grace replied impressed.

“You know, books, paper, ink…”

 

Tom turned to face Thorus and clearly saw him winking at her.

_What the bloody hell is happening here ?_

  

The food appeared on the table and people started helping themselves. Mulciber was gathering a large amount of mashed potatoes on his plate.

 

“Be careful Milton or Slughorn will call you fat again”. Abraxas laughed.

“Come on Malfoy, you know it not fat, but only muscles. He has already told us.” Grace replied amused.

 

 _Us ?!_  

The boys started talking to one another and joking with Grace altogether.

_What do they think they are doing ?_

  

“I don’t think we have met before”. Tom said slowly and distinctly.

A heavy silence settled upon the fifth years.

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

01.09.1942

 

 

_Game on Riddle._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note : Hi everyone, this is chapter two of DDM. It is about to get angsty guys ! Btw, you’re in for the long run !
> 
> As Numerobis once said : “C’est déjà du bon palais, bien sûr il faut imaginer. »


	3. YOU ARE A MEMORY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> \----  
> Song : You are a memory by Message to Bears

 

02.09.1942

“Mister Mulciber, funny seeing you here. I thought you would have not taken Divination again, after what happened last year”. Professor Stalling said.

The entire room chuckled while Milton dropped in the seat next to Hermione, his face red from embarrassment.

“I checked the wrong box on the application”. He murmured to Hermione.

A real laugh escaped from her lips and Milton smiled at her proudly, realizing it was the first time he saw her laughing. He was quite short for his age and had broad shoulders, which gave him an odd look. His brown hair was falling in his eyes, once again, and Hermione could see sympathy in them. He seemed normal. Too normal.

Students were fetching for their summer homework to give to the professor. As the teacher approached her table, Milton handed her his parchment. Hermione felt uncomfortable not being able to submit anything.

“Don’t worry dear”. Stalling smiled. “Welcome to Hogwarts, I hope the Slytherin house gave you a warm welcome last night”.

 

_If by warm welcome you mean a first encounter with the man who will try to kill all of my friends in 50 years, yes sure._

 

“I headed to bed early, I was tired”. She replied honestly.

 

The professor gave her a nod and went back to her desk. “Open your book to page 23. We will begin this year with dream analysis”.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

02.09.1942 

 

Tom was behind his cauldron, alone as usual, as the number of students was odd. Grace arrived in the classroom and looked briefly around her, searching for a place to sit.

 

“Grace, my dear !” Slughorn said to her. “I have set up a spot for you here”.

 

He showed her to a small desk at the front of the class, in front of all the students. She followed him. Tom stared at the two, out of reach to hear what they were saying.

 

“She had already passed her OWLS in potions”. He heard Thorus say behind him.

 

He turned around and faced him.

 

_I have almost forgotten about that._

 

“Sit down please. I am really happy to see some of you today” Slughorn winked at Tom. “Let’s begin, shall we ? Open your book to page 54. You will brew a blood-replenishing potion. Really useful in case of a blood loss.”

 

Everyone started moving around to fetch for their ingredients. Tom was already bored. He stood up and went over to Slughorn’s desk.

 

“Excuse me sir…” Tom started.

“Tom ! How marvellous to see you ! Have you had a great summer ?” Slughorn cut him.

“Yes sir, I hope you had a great one too. Actually, I did not have the time to pick up my ingredients this summer…”

“Don’t worry Tom, I have enough for you in the backroom. Go help yourself.”

 

Tom faked a smile at him and went through a little door behind his potions professor. He gathered many ingredients, among them fairy wings, valerian roots and rose petals. Tom headed back to his potion desk.

 

_Why giving such a boring potion to make ?_

 

Behind him, Abraxas and Thorus were struggling a little to make the potion red.

 

“Have you put the silverweed yet” ? He heard Thorus ask.

“Yes I did” The blond one answered.

“Then why is it purple ?”

“Because apparently you don’t know how to stir properly.”

 

_Idiots. You only have to pour three branches of silverweed then stir 4 times clockwise and let it simers._

“Well done Miss Black”. Slughorn said at the back of the room.

 

_Walburga had always been a great competitor in potions. But it is too easy to do it in duet. Try doing it alone Black, and we will see._

After an hour and a half Tom finished his potion. Slughorn approached him and checked his work.

 

“Marvellous Tom ! Perfect potion as always !” The large professor said loudly for everyone to hear. “And in just an hour and a half !”

 

Tom faked another smile.

“It is easy to make a good potion when you have a great professor”.

“You are going to make me blush Tom !”

 

Slughorn kept laughing while going around the room. Tom started gathering his belongings ready to exit the room, but an intriguing comment from his professor stopped him in his track.

 

“What a strange color !”

 

Tom rose his head and saw Slughorn bent over Grace’s cauldron. He smirked.

_Not so great after all it seems._

 

Tom’s gaze was now stuck on Grace, watching her every move.

 

“Do not worry professor, give me ten minutes.” She smiled knowingly.

 

_This smile. I have already seen it last night at dinner when I told her. She looked me in the eyes, as if she knew it. As if she knew my name._

_The next second, it disappeared. The smile was gone. And she introduced herself._

 

Tom still kept his eyes on her and wondered what she was doing.

 

_You should cut the wings, not slice them. Don’t you know how to follow instructions ? You are going to ruin the potion. Are not you supposed to have passed your OWLS already ? Look at that, the mighty Grace Horthense messing the easiest potion of the year._

 

Tom was eager to see the disappointment on Slughorn’s face.

 

_Let’s sum up your mistakes Horthense. You have put the rose petals too early, you have turned to potion counter clockwise, you have added a black swan feather and you have poured a blue liquid. What was it ? Does not matter, it was not on the ingredient list. Even Slughorn said that the color did not match and…_

 

“How marvellous ! Marvellous...”

 

The loud compliments brought him back from his thoughts.

 

“... Everyone ! Approach please.”

 

Slughorn had never said that before. Tom stood up and took a few steps. The colour was perfect. The texture seemed even better than any blood-replenishing potions he had ever seen.

 

_How is it possible ? She did not follow the instructions._

 

Tom stared at her desk. It was messy, contrasting with the young witch sitting behind it. Tom really looked at her for the first time. She could have been pretty if she was not so skinny, her eyes seemed too big on her face, and their color, once surely warm, had now faded. Her cheeks were hollow even after three months in England with an unlimited supply of food.

 

Her slytherin robe was clearly too big for her and Tom wondered why she did not conjure it to fit her perfectly. Then, he saw one scar. The one on her neck, long, thin and silvery. From distance it almost looked like a choker, but from where he was standing there was no doubt about what it was.

 

_In a war, you can get scarred._

Her potion book was open and caught his attention. She had crossed-out half of the instructions and replaced it with her own writing.

 

_Did she change the potion ? That is not OWLS level. You can be good, but not that good._

_And I know for sure you are not that good._

“You really are outstanding”. Slughorn giggled. “I’ll bring it to Leonara !”.

 

The class was dismissed, but the professor called Tom and Grace to the front of the room.

 

“Grace, my dear, this is the student I was talking about. You agreed to teach him a few tricks in potion…”

 

A knock on the door interrupted him. A young student, timidly told the professor that Headmaster Dippet wanted to see him.

 

“Excuse-me. And congratulations Grace on your first potions, you were really impressive !” Slughorn said before exiting the classroom, leaving Grace and Tom alone.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

02.09.1942 

 

“Excuse me. And congratulations Grace on your first potions, you were really impressive !” Slughorn said before exiting the classroom, leaving Grace and Tom alone.

 

_Step 3_ _: In process_

 

Hermione was standing in front of Tom.

 

_Come on Hermione, breathe. You can do it. It’s just Riddle… For the moment. Wait… Is it that you agreed to in the tearoom ?_

She just opened her mouth to begin talking that Tom cut her.

 

“You will quickly learn that I do not need any tips. But thank you anyway”. He said, keeping himself from being condescending.

Hermione knew better. She knew he was putting an act. He was jealous, she had beaten him in potions and he had not liked it.

 

_Checkmate._

 

\--------------------------

 

Hermione left the room a couple of minutes later after him, a grin on her face. She walked in the hallway towards the Great Hall for lunch. She caught a glimpse at the boys, sitting together at the Slytherin table.

 

In front of Hermione was Abraxas. Hermione knew that the Malfoy family was blood purist, even in this timeline. The resentment Draco’s grandfather had towards her was clear on his features right now. His jaw was tense as he looked at her, and disdain was evident in his pale eyes.

 

Tom was sat in the middle of his crownies, like a king overseeing his servitors. Since the last time she really looked at him in the infirmary, he had grown up a few inches, broader shoulders but he still had the same patronizing look on his face. Hermione realised that if Tom was to ask anything, from passing him the water pitcher to killing someone, his “court” would rush to fulfill his demands.

 

The food suddenly appeared on the table. Hermione took a good look at it. She had not seen that much food in months. She was aware of her condition : the undernition from months without eating properly. Seeing that much food made something twitch inside of her. It was not right, having that much considering the era she was living in.

 

The war was devastating the muggle world, people were dying on the street, and here she was. In front of her a feast she knew would not be entirely consumed. A silver plate fell behind her and made her turn around. She stared at the Gryffindor table.

 

And here he was, choking on his own his blood. His grey cardigan was tainted, his hair was disheveled and his scars seemed new.  She could see on his mouth the words “help me”. But she did not move. She wanted to scream, shake everyone around her to help her late professor, her friend, Remus.

She felt someone grab her arm. She jumped in surprise, took her wand from her left arm holster and put it underneath Thorus throat. As her wand was pushing through his skin, an unforgivable almost escaped her mouth. Then, the white noise in her head disappeared and the great hall noise came back.

 

“The fuck Horthense ? Lower your wand”. She heard Dolohov spit.

 

She withdrew her wand and hastily put in back in her holster.

 

“I.. I.. Sorry… I’m sorry…” She whispered.

 

She quickly stood up and felt light-headed. She swayed a little and saw Thorus touch her arm carefully.

 

“I’ve never seen you this pale Grace and that’s saying a lot. Sit down.” He gently told her.

 

She executed without thinking and stared at her plate. She saw a hand put an apple in front of her.

 

“Eat.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

02.09.1942 

 

Tom saw Clearwater drop a silver plate on the ground, causing a loud noise. Grace turned, startled. As she stared at the Gryffindor table, the blood drained from her already pale face. She was petrified, like she saw a ghost. She opened lightly her mouth ready to scream. It seemed like her eyes had been under a veil from remembrance.

 

Thorus, grabbed her arm and asked her how her first day was so far. Without even thinking, she drew her wand and placed it on his neck. She was so quick he didn’t have the time to think “Quidditch”. All the boys tensed. She was ready to curse him. Dolohov spoke up and she realised what she was doing. She was shaking.

 

After mumbling incoherent words, she stood up but Thorus made her sit. It seemed like she was about to faint. Tom realised she had not eaten anything since she arrived at Hogwarts. He had watched her, she had not touched anything last night, and this morning she did not show up for breakfast. He knew she would not handle a copious meal, so he grabbed a fruit, put in on her plate and told her to eat.

 

She looked at him. Tom saw pure anger and hatred. She stood up.

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

02.09.1942 

 

Hermione saw a drop of water splash on her desk. She wiped the liquid from her chin. After the incident in the Great Hall, she rushed to the bathroom to splatter her face to cool down. While she stood in front of the mirror, her right side started burning again.

 

Professor Merrythought was explaining the syllabus. She could only see Remus’ face and his blood on the table. She shivered.

 

_No he is not dead, he is not dead. He is not dead yet. But you’ve seen him, you’ve seen him on this table, choking on his own blood, dying, looking right at you and asking for your help. You’ve already seen it, it had already happened. But it had not happened yet !_

She was gripping the edge of the desk so hard that her knuckles became white.

 

_Don’t let it get to your head. Don’t let it get to your head. Don’t let it get to your head…_

“Miss Horthense ?” The professor interrupted her.

 

She glared at Merrythought. Her grey hair betrayed her young face. Even though she did look a little bit like professor Sprout, the spark in her eyes reminded Hermione of McGonagall.

 

“If you do not want to participate in this class, you know after what had happened…”

 

_How come she already knows ? It happened 15 minutes ago._

 

“Back in France”. She finished.  

“I’m totally fine professor.”

“Well I don’t know your duel skills yet, would you consider yourself experimented ?” The professor asked almost casually.

 

A silence settled in the room, and all eyes were on Hermione. She silently chuckled.

 

“Maybe quite experimented…? ” Hermione said.

“Well, who can I put you with ?” Merrythought asker for herself at loud.

“I volunteer.” Dolohov said while standing up.

 

Hermione turned around, and smiled at him.

 

_It’s just a class. You only need to disarm him._

 

Merrythought flicked her wand, and the room reorganized itself to welcome duels. She saw from the corner of her eyes Milton smiling at her and welcoming her to sit next to him. But she couldn't. She was to embarrassed by what happened in the Great Hall. So she took the seat next to a Gryffindor. The first duel began. Hermione spaced out.

 

_Do you remember your second year ? With Lockhart. Oh God ! The crush you’ve had on him. You’ve drawn hearts on your timetable right next to his name.  Harry and Ron were making fun of you. Of course they were, it was pathetic._

 

She smiled.

 

_And from the moment you’ve discovered Lockhart was a scam, Ron would not stop teasing you, and Harry would… No. Stop it right now. You can’t do that. Don’t you dare think about them Hermione. It’s been four months, you can’t break now._

 

She focused on the duels, trying to get rid of the memories in her head. As the spells were cast, she made observations. None of them were outstanding. As soon as Hermione started realising she was playing, again, with her signet ring, she stopped.

 

_In a battle, they wouldn’t last 10 seconds._

 

She was waiting for Tom to duel. She tried to ignore that little voice in her head telling her that Tom’s duel would be impressive. But once his name was called out, her entire attention was focused on him. He bowed to his opponent.

 

_You didn't know he could bow to someone other than a mirror, didn’t you Hermione ?_

Red and blue were mixing in front of her. The duel just lasted for a couple of minutes, but she saw him duel. She saw his speed, his attentiveness, his cunning but some things were missing. First, he could not use what he was so desperate to use. Secondly, his lack of creativity.

 

_Not that impressive finally._

 

“Good job Longbottom !” Merrythought said to the other boy, a shy smile on her face.

 

_Longbottom ? Neville’s grandfather ?_

 

The professor turned her head to Tom and nodded respectfully.

Tom sat back, a fake humble smiled spread on his face.

 

“Who’s next ?” The professor asked.

Dolohov looked right at Hermione, nodded at her and stood up.

 

_Hermione, go easy on him._

 

She was in front of him. Merrythought reminded, as usual, the rules to follow during a duel :

 

“No unforgivables and no dark spells.”

She bowed, like she was supposed to. He bowed back.

 

_He is only fifteen Hermione, don’t be scared. He is not the one who scarred you. Not yet._

 

She cast the first spell.

 

“Stupefy”

 

He replied with a protego. Hermione knew he would not bend at the first spell, so she kept going on.

 

“Expelliarmus, Impedimenta, Confringo”

 

He shielded the two first one, and ducked the last. She wanted to know if he was strong. If he could beat her, even though she knew deep inside of her it was not possible. So she stopped attacking him. She stood, straight, defying him.

 

And he took the opportunity. He cast curses, and she only had to move her left shoulder slightly to the left to avoid them. It was too easy, and he knew it. He was frustrated, but she was delighted. If delighted was the right term, she did not know, but just seeing him getting angrier by the weak impact he had on her, was enough for now.

 

“Petrificus Totalus” he shouted, panting.

 

She started laughing. She knew this laugh. It was Bellatrix’. If she was in her right mind, she would have stopped, but she was not.

 

She thought he was creative. She knew for a fact he would become innovative and Slughorn had said it. But at this moment, he was only casting third-year spells. When would he become dangerous ? Would he ?

 

And then he did.

 

“Stupefy.”

 

He almost screamed it. And she had enjoyed it. She could see it on his face. This anger, this will to beat her. And she had liked it. She did not want to stop now, she was having too much fun, even though she was not supposed to.

 

_But who cares ?_

_We aren't on a battlefield, no one is going to die, so why not enjoy yourself ?_

 

His gaze changed. His eyes became black. His anger was now at his utmost.

 

“Wingardium Leviosa”

 

It seemed simple, and it was. But casting that to throw a desk at her face was creative. And at this moment, she smiled. He was there, standing in front of her, the man who would haunt her dreams. The one who would use simple spells and transform them into nightmares. A desk ? Yes it seemed like it was laughable, but she knew better.

 

“Expelliarmus”

 

The spell was messy. Her wand flew to the other side of the room. Even if she knew the expelliarmus charm was red, she saw purple. This spell was supposed to be red, but how come she saw purple ? Then she became somebody else.

 

She was somebody else. She was not Hermione Granger nor Grace Hortense, she was someone she would not have thought one day she would become. And she didn’t care.

 

Dolohov started smiling, like he knew he had just won. So she summoned her wand, wandlessly. He gasped.

 

She caught it with her right hand. From this moment she knew. And it began. She cast wordless spells on wordless spells. She couldn’t stop. Then, it was her turn to be creative.

 

_Avis_

Birds began flying around her head. She remembered her sixth year. He lacked understanding what she was trying to do.

 

_Oppugno_

 

The birds steered to his face. He tried to get rid of them by moving his arms.

 

_Gemini_

 

She cloned herself once. Then cast a “Notice me not” spell on herself. She moved quickly to stand behind him while he was too focused on the birds attacking him. Thanks to a “Petrificus Totalus” he stopped the birds from bothering him and faced the fake Hermione.

 

He cast a “Reducto”. The spell went through the silhouette and she saw his body tense. She took a quick look around the class and they also wondered where she had disappeared.

 

_Finite Incantatem_

 

She appeared behind him. She cast a small spell on his right shoulder. He turned around, and his eyes opened wide. She was playing with him, like a tiger playing with its food.

 

“Expecto patronum !”

 

A silver tiger escaped from her wand. Its stripes were even, and beautiful. Dolohov took a step back and fell on the ground. Hermione was shocked.

 

_A tiger ? What the fuck ?_

 

Antonin stood up.

 

_Stupefy_

 

He fell back again, and got up quickly.

 

_Expelliarmus_

She caught his wand

 

She liked this duel. She liked dueling with him. She liked knowing she could destroy him. She liked playing with him. Every spell she threw at him, she remembered the pain in her chest. Her scars started burning from the hatred inside of her.

She hated him. He hurt her, he messed with her brain, he made her feel weak, and she hated him for that. He was now standing in front of her, as the world belonged to him, and she hated him more.

The smile he had on his face, the way he laughed with his friends, the innocence he still had, she wanted to take all of that away from him as he had taken hers. Like he had scarred her, like he had made her feel like she was nothing. She hated him.

 

“Ok, Stop !” Merrythought interrupted the duel.

“Cru…” She started.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

02.09.1942

 

_...cio ?_

_Was she going to cast it if she had not been stopped ? Was she willing to ? Has she done it before ?_

 

Tom, for the first time since Grace had arrived, had no doubt. She had been in a war. She had dueled. And she had won. He knew, from Abraxas, that a little cercle of students had created a resistance. Had she been a part of it ?

 

_She had._

 

Tom was not easily impressed. But after what he had just witnessed he could not hide his surprise. She was good, he knew it, and he was jealous. He looked at Dolohov. He was white as chalk. Tom had always found Dolohov interesting, he had potential, but after this duel he was disappointed in him.

 

_Horthense, at first you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention._

 

Tom heard the whispers, the class was gossiping. Merrythought was talking to Dolohov, making sure he was alright. Grace, was standing, her wand in her right hand, her gaze focused on Dolohov, filled with anger. She was breathing heavily.

 

“Go to the infirmary, right now”. Merrythought told her.

 

Tom stood up.

 

“I am prefect. I will take her.” He said instinctively.

 

He was the first to leave the classroom. She joined him a couple of seconds later. They started walking in the corridors. He wanted to ask her so many questions, but he knew it was not the moment. The arrived at the infirmary. Miss Asphodela approached them.

 

“Professor Merrythought told me to come here”. Grace said.

 

Her voice was so different from the one she had during the duel. It was emotionless. She glared at the matron, a quick defying look on her face. She sat on the bed on the left.

 

“Do you have any injuries dear ?”

“No spells hit her.” Tom declared.

 

The nurse nodded and got closer to Grace.

“Is it your right side ? Is it still not healed ?” She asked her.

Grace did not answer, she just gave the nurse a knowing look.

 

“Listen” Grace started after a few silent seconds “I am totally fine. Just got a little too enthusiastic during a duel.”

“So no old injuries hurting then ?” Miss Asphodela responded.

“She broke her left ankle when she was eight years old.” He answered for her.

 

Grace rose her head and looked at him, with a mix of confusion and wariness.

 

“I am not sure it is relevant, but thank you Mr. Riddle.” Miss Asphodela said, uncomfortable.

Tom was asked to leave. He waited in front of the infirmary door.

 

_Dolohov disappointed me. I would have thought better of him._

_That was not what I asked him to do._

 

Fifteen minutes later Grace stepped out of the infirmary, a paper in her hand.

“You shouldn't be here Riddle, you should have gone to class.” Grace told him. He took the note from her hand and smiled at her.

 

“Do not worry about that, we have here our pass.” He smirked, raising the white sheet in front of her. She did not waste time, and headed towards their next class : Transfiguration.

 

She knocked on the door thrice and stepped in. Dumbledore looked at the paper Tom had in his hand, raised an eyebrow then nodded, allowing them to take a sit. The only spots left were in the back, on the left, next to the window.

 

She sat first, then he followed. He knew, from experience, that Dumbledore's first class were the most spectacular. The old man transfigured a gold coin into a niffler. The girls were marvelling over the small animal. Except for her. She did not care. He saw from the corner of his eye that she was focused on something else.

He turned slightly his head to the left and saw here staring at Dumbledore. It was not the typical stare, the one filled with admiration and fondness. It was cold, calculating, dispising and full of disappointment. He wondered why. She was the first student who did not idolise the professor.

 

Well except him.

 

_Who are you Grace ?_

It was the first time he thought of her using her first name.

 

\--------------------------

 

Abraxas left the room just before him. Tom stopped him to go further by grabbing his right shoulder.

 

“Malfoy, I need you to do something.” He said.

 

_Let’s find out what you are hiding Horthense._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note : Hi everyone, this is the third chapter of DDM. Hope you guys like it !
> 
> You can follow our Tumblr : agarariddle-andhernachos
> 
> Btw each chapter title is a song, you can check them out if you want
> 
> As Numerobis once said : "C'est trop calme... j'aime pas trop beaucoup ça... J'préfère quand c'est un peu trop plus moins calme"
> 
> -Agara
> 
> DDM Managers


	4. TWO GHOSTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> \------  
> Song : Two ghosts by Harry Styles

03.09.1942

 

The black lake was the same colour as the sky. Grey. The sun just rose, and a beautiful silence enveloped Hermione. Hogwarts had not been this quiet since Dumbledore's death, in sixth year. She liked it. Being alone had always been scary, but not today, not at this moment.

Her eyes were falling from sleepiness. She had not been able to sleep soundly for months. The nightmares were still here.

 

One, in particular, was regular. They are in Dean's forest. Harry and Her. Ron had left, and she feels betrayed, alone, afraid. Even Harry's presence is not enough. But she knows she has to be strong.

It is dark outside. Each branch from each tree looks like Bellatrix's wand, and their shadows on the tent's cloth are ghastly. The sound of the wind, similar to Dolohov's snicker, sends shivers down her spine. She goes outside, wand at the ready. Noises are coming from everywhere, steps, cracks, breathing. It gets closer. Then, the breath. On her neck. Warm and frightening. She turns around. And she wakes up. Alone, shaking, tears rolling on her cheeks, and a scream stuck in her throat.

She had not been able to get back to sleep so she had left her dormitory. And here she was, three hours before her first class. She was sat against the old tree facing the lake.

 

After two hours of charms, she left the room. She had not talked to anyone since yesterday and she had not been willing to participate in class. The students were walking eagerly in the corridors to get to lunch. She arrived in the Great Hall, and headed toward the Slytherin table. They were staring at her, not knowing if they had to scooch to let her sit. She smirked. She got closer.

" _Bonjour_ " She said, smiling.

She took the seat between Isodor Avery and Edmund Rosier. Dolohov, in front of her, was waiting for her to talk to him about yesterday, to apologize, to stop pretending she was above him.

From the moment she sat down, the conversation stopped. Thorus was staring at his plate, apparently finding his beef very interesting. Edgard Lestrange didn't seem to care about the situation. Abraxas was gawking at her, with the same arrogant look he always had when looking at her. Milton, well, he was being Milton. Then Tom. He was eating, almost impassive if it was not for the slight upward movement on his lips.

"I guess I need to... " She started.

 

_Dolohov, did you really think, even for a second, that I would lower myself to apologize ? And to you ? You've guessed wrong. Try again._

 

She was dragging the "to" while defying Dolohov. She could feel him get tensed. He was getting impatient. The silence became heavy. His lips started moving and Hermione knew it was not going to be pleasant to hear.

"No need to." Tom cut short.

Dolohov, in spite of his rage, nodded.

_Riddle guessed right._

\-----------------------------

 

After one hour of Runes and two of Transfiguration, Hermione was drained. She already had homework. Dumbledore was a brilliant teacher but asking for 15 inches parchment at the beginning of the year was too much. Even for Hermione.

An hour had passed, she left the library and walked towards the dungeons to take a nap.

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

03.09.1942

 

Tom was still writing his essay when Grace left the library. He watched her. He had been waiting for her to leave in order to get started on his new book : Founders of Hogwarts.

The book began with Hogwart's Architecture.

 

_Interesting._

 

\-----------------------------

 

The chimney was emanating a soft light. Tom was sat on the large green leather English couch. Abraxas, Antonin, and Milton were fussing about Dumbledore.

"15 inches ! What next ? My soul ?" Milton exaggerated.

Tom heard Isodor snicker behind him.

"Don't worry Milton, I'll help you if you need". Thorus offered while taking a seat next to him.

 

_Instead of talking, get working on it._

_I have already finished mine. Hortense did too._

 

He had seen her parchment, it had seemed quite long for only fifteen inches.

Tom had not seen Grace since the library, two hours ago. She did not attend dinner and she was nowhere to be seen. He turned his head to the right and saw in the corner of the common room Walburga Black arguing with the oldest Parkinson. Walburga was staring at him angrily.

"Black." Tom's voice was loud enough for her to turn around. "Is there someone in your dormitory ?"

"Why are you asking ?" She spat back.

"Answer me."

His voice had become deeper, darker.

"No. No one is up there" She finally answered.

 

_What are you up to Hortense ?_

 

  _\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

04.09.1942

Once more Hermione had not been able to sleep through the night. Dark sleeping bags were visible under her eyes. Thorus was leaning against the Great Hall's door frame, a toast in his mouth and another one in his right hand.

"You're late" He told her handing her the toast.

 

He took her by the arm and they began walking.

"Late ? What are you talking about ? Where are you taking me ?" She asked, slightly panicked.

"Well, first calm down. Secondly, if you had listened to what I was saying in Runes yesterday you would have known what I am talking about, Quidditch tryouts ! And thirdly, I am taking you with me to witness Abraxas trying for seeker, and failing."

 

Hermione took a bite.

"I can't refuse then." She replied.

They arrived in the bleachers. It was cold for a September morning. Milton and Tom were already there.

"Hello Gracie !" Milton smiled at her.

She smiled back.

"Well sit down Grace." Thorus told her. "This is Flint. He is the captain."

 

_Is it a family tradition ?_

 

"I see the bats in Rosier and Lestrange hands. I guess they are both beaters. And I can see that Flint is a chaser." Hermione interrupted him.

"Look at you, little Quidditch fan." Thorus snickered.

She pushed him slightly.

"Slytherin is missing two chasers, a keeper and a seeker." He kept going.

"It seems like a lot."

"If you had witnessed the final match last year, you would know why."

She looked at him, alarmed. He laughed but did not explain further.

 

_It's weird, isn't it ? Being here, watching tryouts for another team._

 

"Let's get started." Milton said. "Who bets on who ?"

"2 galleons on Black for chaser." Thorus replied.

"Which one ?" Tom intervened, bored.

"Cygnus."

"Then I bet on Orion." Milton declared. "3 galleons for chaser. What about you Gracie ?"

 

She looked at the field. And pointed almost randomly at a player.

"This one. Keeper. 4 galleons."

Thorus laughed. "You don't even know who this is."

"Don't need to. I can feel it." She smiled.

She had chosen him because he was wearing the same protection Ron did in his fifth year.

 

Flint blew the whistle. It began.

When she watched the Gryffindor's team tryout, she was almost glad to be there. She was looking at her friends, encouraging them. But today was different. She was freezing, tired and she did not care about the players at all. She needed to be there though. Even if Step 2 was completed, it needed to be maintained.

 

"How are you feeling ?" Thorus asked her quietly.

" _Fantastique_ ! I love being here at 9 AM, in the freezing cold, watching a sport I don't even like."

"No seriously, how are you ?"

She stopped. It seemed like he was genuinely caring.

"I'm fine." She answered.

He did not look convinced. His stare caught Milton's one, and they exchanged a dubious look.

"What are…" She started.

"Thorus !" Isodor yelled. "It's Abraxas' turn."

Thorus sent her an apologizing smile and left with Milton. She was alone with Tom. They were sat in silence, a comfortable silence.

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

04.09.1942

Ten minutes into the tryouts, the first injury occurred. Orion Black fell violently to the ground after being hit in the face by a quaffle.

 

Tom and Grace winced simultaneously.

"Too predictable. He should have feint to the left." She whispered to herself.

"I thought you did not like Quidditch." He replied.

"Making an observation doesn't mean I like the sport."

"You seem quite aware of Quidditch strategies for someone who does not like the game." Tom retorqued. "And do not tell me you have read a book about it."

"I used to watch my friends play". She replied quietly.

Tom could feel something more in her expression. It was barely there, almost nonexistent : nostalgia and guilt.

 

_Do tell me more._

 

"Which position ?" He asked.

 

_Chaser._

 

"I was friend with the entire quidditch team" She replied.

 

_Too easy Hortense. We all know you were best friend with the chaser._

_Do not try to fool me. I need more._

 

"I would have not thought you were friends with the jocks." He mocked.

"Nice to reduce someone only to his extracurricular activity."

"Do not put words in my mouth." He told her, slightly annoyed.

The silence came back. A few moments before, Abraxas had tried a Wronski feint and failed. But in the end, he still caught the snitch.

"Bold of him to think he could succeed such a move." Tom commented. "I have never seen a successful one."

"Yes, I guess it's really difficult to execute". She replied knowingly. "But a fifth year could do it."

 

_We are getting there._

 

"You seem quite confident that a boy of that age could achieve it."

"I am. I've seen it before." She answered proudly.

"A friend of yours maybe ?"

Grace stood up. Tom's gaze followed her every move.

"If you have something to ask Riddle, just do it." She started while walking slowly away.

 

_How did you survive ?_

_How did you learn how to survive ?_

_How did you master how to fight ?_

 

_How could a fourteen-year-old girl be the only survivor ?_

_How come you hate Dumbledore ?_

_How can you hate the enemy of your enemy ?_

 

_How could a fourteen-year-old girl appear into Hogwarts ?_

_How come you have chosen Hogwarts ?_

 

_Unless you never had to survive_

_Unless you never had to learn_

_Unless you were trained to_

 

_Unless there is no survivor_

_Unless you were brainwashed to_

_Unless there was no enemy to begin with_

 

_Unless you were given the device for_

_Unless you did not choose. Unless you were asked to. Unless you were ordered to._

 

Tom rose. He asked a question.

She nodded.

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

04.09.1942

 

_So Binns was already dead in 1942._

 

Hermione checked the time. Only 10 minutes since the class had begun and she was already bored. Not that the siege of Braumau was not interesting, but learning it again was not exalting. She was sat between Milton and Thorus, who looked equally bored. Isodor, behind her, was snickering with Edmund and Edgar. In front of her was the rest of the group. For once, Tom was not in the middle.

After 35 minutes, her paper was filled with little doodles, oddly shaped like the letter "s".

"Professor !" She heard a male voice say. "As long as we're talking about the siege, don't you think it could be interesting to compare Braumau's one with what had happened in France ? You know after this morning paper, the article..."

She rose her head and felt eyes on her.

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

04.09.1942

 

"Which article ?" The ghost answered.

"Well…" The boy quickly glanced at her, uneasy "The Daily Prophet printed the official kill list, and explained what really happened over there. There also are few extracts from journals."

The Ravenclaw was not sure how to explain the situation to the professor. He felt embarrassed.

"Students journals."

Tom quickly glanced at her and saw true panic in her eyes.

 

_What a shame Thorus intercepted you before you could get into the Great Hall and read the paper._

_Having a friend who is genuinely concerned about your well being. How lucky are you ?_

 

_Funny how little well-chosen words can put an idea in a boy's head : whether to help a friend to avoid getting hurt or to ask the right question at the right moment._

 

Thorus leaned into Grace's side and whispered something in her ear, using a calming voice.

She was gripping her quill so hard, he felt like it would break.

"Well, keep talking !" Binns asked the Ravenclaw, eager to know.

"The students explain...explained" he rectified "What they've been through. The lack of food, of sleep, the constant attacks, the militia they created and how it reduced week after week."

 

Binns turned to Grace.

"I guess the only person here, more qualified than I am to talk to you about that is Miss Hortense."

A loud silence settled.

 

_Let's play a game Hortense._

_A game where I can have my answers. A game where I set the rules._

 

 _**Rule n°1** _ _: I always choose the situation._

_Let's see how you get out of this one._

 

"No need !" Walburga snickered at the front of the room. "I can explain to the class myself".

 

 _**Rule n°2 :** _ _There are only two players._

 

The students were all frowning, not understanding what was happening. Tom was staring at Black, waiting for the rest of the sentence to follow.

Walburga turned around to face Grace, a haughty smile on her face, and with the most insufferable voice finished what she had started :

"Yes, you scream while you sleep Grace."

 

_Maybe it is time to have a little chat with Black._

 

The entire room was staring at her. Tom was staring too. But unlike the others who were worried and eager, he was calm. She scanned briefly the room, and once her eyes caught him, he raised an eyebrow, defying her to react.

 

She stood straight in her seat, dropped her quill and smiled.

 

"Let's hear you talk about it then." Grace finally said. "Explain us. Explain us the claustrophobia. The feeling of the walls caving in, the urge to break every one of them down, just to be able to breathe again.

Explain us the exhaustion, after weeks of barely sleeping. Explain us the anguish, the anguish of making too much noise. Knowing that every sound you make, even almost inaudible, may tell them where you are.

Explain us the scent. The scent of blood and flesh. The scent of death. Yes Walburga, tell us what death smells like. Then explain us the fear. The fear of noise, especially when the noise is escaping from your friend's mouth, bleeding to death. But also the fear of silence, because you don't know if you are alone and how come you're alone.

The fear of light, the one escaping from wands, but also the fear of darkness, the one leaving you all alone with your imagination. The fear of colours, the colour of the spell hitting you.

The fear of being too slow or too fast. The fear of being too nice, or too cruel. The fear of losing yourself or staying exactly the same.

The fear of leaving with your partner for rounds and coming back alone. The fear of talking to a friend not knowing if it will be the last time.

So tell us Walburga, tell us all about the guilt of being the only survivor."

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

04.09.1942

She could feel Thorus, besides her, holding his breath. Hermione saw the pity. The pity is their eyes, they were all looking at her with a mixture of admiration and sadness. Well everyone except him. No sign of pity nor empathy. Not even a glint of emotion in his eyes.

Then, he nodded.

\-----------------------------

 

Hermione was still slightly shaking as she walked toward her DADA class. She chose to walk alone, behind the rest of the class. Before entering the room, she ran a hand across her face and took a deep breath.

She was about to step inside the classroom but someone blocked her from entering. She looked at the person facing her.

"Miss Hortense, today is again a practical class. Are you in the right mind to participate ?" Merrythought asked her, concerned.

 

_Is she asking you this because of the last practical class ? Or because of the article ? Or because of what happened in Binns' class ?_

 

_Are you in the right mind to participate Hermione ?_

 

"I'm not." Hermione answered.

"There is no reason for you to attend the class then." She smiled kindly.

Hermione shyly smiled back.

"And after all, you will not learn anything new today." Merrythought added, praising her.

 

Hermione knew where she was going to go instead of attending DADA. She arrived on the seventh floor. Passed three times.

 

_I need to see them. I need to see them. I need to see them._

 

The door appeared, she pushed it and entered their wagon on the Hogwarts Express. The one where they met, the one where they laughed, the one where they cried, the one where they argued, the one where they said hello and the one where they said goodbye. The number on the door was not always the same but the feeling never changed.

She could almost see Ron's freckles and Harry's messy hair. She could almost hear them laughing about Percy and talking about Quidditch. She could almost feel them, their presence. But something had changed. She looked around her, seeking out the wrong in the right.

 

She saw herself in the window. And she knew. She was the wrong in the right.

"I'm all alone." She laughed quietly. "They're not here. Harry and Ron aren't here."

It was the first time she had said their names out loud.

 

Then, she snapped.

"YOU LEFT ME HERE. YOU'VE ABANDONED ME. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT ?"

 

She threw her bag in the air. Its handle got caught into a luggage's corner and made it fall on the seats. It opened loudly. She took the belongings in it and threw them around, screaming at the top of her lungs towards her friends. Or rather the ghosts of her friends.

But they were not here.

She could not breathe, she was suffocating. She tore her tie away from her neck. She watched the cloth, its green colour testifying for her loss. She stopped. She was not mad at them. She was mad at herself.

 

She rose her head and stared at her reflection, again.

"You did so great Hermione. The brightest witch of your age. The mighty Hermione Granger, who saved Harry's precious life, more times than you can count. But no one's there to save you. No one's there when you fuck up. And you did fuck up. You fucked up big time."

 

She started crying.

"YOU FUCKED UP. COULDN'T YOU JUST FOLLOW THE GODDAMN PLAN ? IT'S YOUR FAULT. EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT. YOU FUCKED UP. YOU FUCKED UP. YOU FUCKING FUCKED UP."

She threw a punch at herself. She window broke in tiny fragments.

"It's my fault. Everything's my fault. I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucking fucked up."

 

She let herself sink to the floor. At this moment there was no green anymore, only red, crimson red. She laughed through her tears, unable to stop due to the irony of the situation.

The blood started to drench her white shirt. She ripped out her sleeve.

And there it was. Always there. Mocking her. Taunting her. Haunting her.

 

_Mudblood._

 

She scratched it eagerly. The pain did not stop her. The blood did not stop her. But the laugh did. Strident, diabolical and deafening. She put her fingers in her hair, pulling it. She buried her head in her knees. She _needed_ it to stop.

 

"I just want to go home. I just want to go home. I just want to go home." She cried like she did when she was a little girl.

A warm silence took over the laugh. She felt the comfortable mattress underneath her. She felt the reassuring linen against her skin. She smelled the familiar fabric softener. She knew where she was. Right where she belongs. Right, where she would come at night when she was little, scared, and looking for her parents. She was in their bed. She was finally home.

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

05.09.1942

"Do not worry, this spell is difficult to master and will take time to. We will be working on it until the end of seventh year." Dumbledore informed the class with his loud voice. "Miss Crestfellow, could you remind us the six steps to achieve a perfect Incarcerous ?"

The Hufflepuff rose from her seat : "The first step is to conjure a thin and short filament. The second one is the size of a shoelace. Then the size of a measurement tape." She stopped for a few seconds to think. "The fourth step is to cast a short but thick rope, then a thin but long rope. The last step is mastering the spell : conjuring a solid and long rope."

"Thank you Miss Crestfellow, 5 points for Hufflepuff. But you have made a little mistake. The fourth step is the thin but long rope and the fifth one is the short but thick." Dumbledore explained.

 

Esomilda Crestfellow turned a bright shade of red before sitting back in her chair.

"A lot of my students make this error." Dumbledore chuckled.

 

_No. They do not._

 

This first hour of the class was purely theoretical. The professor explained in details, through diagrams, each step.

"We have one hour left, I would like you to try to master the first step. If you need any help, don't be shy." The red hair teacher smiled.

 

_In_

_Car_

_Ce_

_Rous_

_In-car-ce-rous_

_Incarcerous_

 

"Incarcerous." Tom cast.

A thread the size of a shoelace escaped his wand. He smiled. The other fifth years around him were only just able (for those who could) to conjure thin and short filaments. Tom glanced at Dumbledore and saw that the old man was already looking at him.

"10 points to Slytherin". He said, without any emotion. "I see you don't need help Tom."

 

Tom's gaze flew over the room and he analyzed the performances. He was glad to witness that the Slytherin house was doing better than the Hufflepuff.

"Well done !" He heard Dumbledore praise behind him.

He turned around. Thorus was smiling at the professor. "10 points to Slytherin thanks to Mister Nott. Perfect filament ! I would like you to start studying the next step's diagrams."

 

_10 points ? For a thin filament ? I gave you an entire shoelace._

 

"Miss Hortense. It is our third class together and I have not yet heard the sound of your voice. You would care to try the first step ?"

Tom was waiting to see which step Grace would manage. After all, she was supposed to be the Transfiguration Club Vice-President back in France. But he was eager to witness the interaction between the professor and her.

 

She was sitting alone in her chair, at the back of the room. The professor was standing in front of her. She rose her wand slightly and flicked it.

Tom saw a dark shape escape from it and fly rapidly to the opposite of the room. It wrapped itself tightly around the mannequin standing in the right corner. It was thick and dark brown. It quite looked like a rope from a boat.

She already mastered the sixth step. Perfectly.

 

And yet, the professor did not hear the sound of her voice.

She turned her head to face Dumbledore waiting for him to say something.

"Impressive Miss Hortense." He said, trying to hide his surprise. "You are skilled at transfiguration. After all, _Monsieur_ De Villières had talked to me about you."

Grace smiled.

 

_But no points were awarded._

 

\-----------------------------

 

At 3PM Tom left his Arithmancy class and headed towards the library for his one hour break before Potions. He got close to his usual table in the left corner. The other Slytherin were already there and chatting quietly. On his seat was laying an open book. He took it and rapidly scanned the pages.

 

_Muggles studies._

 

Tom liked order, liked things being in the right place. He closed it and returned it to the muggle section.

He started working on his 10 inches DADA essay.

 

"Where's Hortense ?" Dolohov asked Isodor quitely, faking disinvestment.

"I don't know. Why would I know ?" The other one answered while continuing writing his essay.

"She's your friend isn't she ?" Antonin almost spat, full of disdain.

"I'm your friend and I don't care where you go."

 

Edmund laughed. Tom cleared his throat. Edgard elbowed Rosier and gave him the look for him to stop.

"Where's Grace ?" Isodor asked Thorus discreetly.

He did not answered but turned toward Milton.

"Do you know where she is Milton ?"

"I don't know. What about you Abraxas ?" Milton said naively.

"The fuck you ask me, she's not my friend." Abraxas spat.

 

Tom violently closed his book, causing a loud noise. A silence settled.

"If you are not here to work, then leave."

 

Where _are you Hortense ?_

 

\-----------------------------

 

The fifth year Slytherin entered the room for their last class : double potion.

"Everyone sit down please". The large professor demanded. The students obeyed.

Tom put his bag on his usual table and started taking his belongings out of it. In front of the class, just like last time, was Grace's desk. Her potion's possessions were already displayed on her desk and her book already opened.

 

"Draught of peace. Can someone tell me a little bit more about the potion you will brew today ?" He continued.

"It is a really difficult potion to brew, any mistake in the concoction may have drastic consequences. For instance, adding too much ingredients can put the drinker in a deep sleep state, possibly irreversible." Pax Zabini answered.

"Marvellous ! 10 points to Slytherin !"

Tom found this potion more interesting to make than the last one. It was delicate, it was precise, and he was meticulous. His potion followed exactly the change of colours expected : green, blue, purple, pink, turquoise…

 

She was cleaning out her table. She was tidying her belongings. She gave professor Slughorn a turquoise vial. Only fifty minutes. She only took fifty minutes. Tom was taken aback.

 

_How ?_

_Turquoise ? It is not the final stage._

 

She gave the professor her best smile, he whispered something and she laughed quietly. His gaze followed her silhouette, leaving the classroom.

 

_Why are you leaving ? You clearly messed up the potion._

_You still have time. So why are you leaving Hortense ?_

 

_I may know you for just a week, but I know you care about your grades : you always start your essay as soon as you can, you always have the right answer in class and you have already passed your potion's OWLS._

_So why are you leaving ? And why is he allowing you to leave ?_

 

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

05.09.1942

Hermione opened the door in a small creek. The few people who were here were whispering, but no one was looking at her. The room was not what she remembered from her own timeline. The tables seemed new, the fireplace was being used and a warm light escaped from it. She had never seen the place like that, and even though it was welcoming, she did not feel at ease.

She automatically sat on one of the high stool. She took her scarf off and put it in the chair next to her.

"Welcome to the Hogshead, what can I get you ?" She heard the bartender ask.

"Firewhiskey." She answered determined.

He put a glass in front of her and poured the amber liquid. She took it and drank the first sip. The warmth of the alcohol burned her throat, but her face stayed emotionless, from habit. He discreetly watched over her.

 

_In the future, he would never serve a minor._

 

"Rough day at school ?" Alberforth asked while wiping a glass.

"Rough couple of months you'd say."

He laughed softly. She drank up the entire glass and put it down.

"I hope you're not skipping any class while being here."

It was her turn to laugh.

"Only transfiguration." She lied knowingly, a small smile on her face.

He looked at her for a couple a seconds then poured another drink in her empty glass.

"This one's on the house." He commented, a genuine smile on his lips. "So, what are you looking for then ?"

 

_What… ?_

 

"...the funny bartender, the brooding bartender, the listening bartender ? The list goes on and on."

"What about just you being yourself ? I am kinda tired of people changing their personalities just for me. Be funny if you want to, brood if you need to and if you are interested you can always listen." She finished her glass. "But to be totally honest, what I am looking for in a bartender is for him to keep filling my glass."

"That, I can do"

 

She emptied another one and felt at ease.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note : First we are two writing this ff and we just realized that in the first 3 chapters one of us was writing "Hortense" with an "h" and we apologize for this mistake.
> 
> Secondly, we covered an entire week of school on purpose but don't worry it's moving faster in the next chapter !
> 
> Hope you guys like it !
> 
> \- Agara
> 
> DDM's Manager


	5. DECEIT & BETRAYAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> \------  
> Song : Deceit & Betrayal by Audiomachine
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> This chapter is a little different. Take the time to read, don't rush. Important information may appear and may be important later.
> 
> Everything you are about to read happen in 15 minutes.

26.10.1942

"You have fifteen minutes. No less, no more !" Slughorn almost yelled. "I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my own house ! If I don't have the phial by the time I come back…"

He left the room and slammed the door violently behind him.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 26.10.1942

This Friday had begun normally, the Slytherin-fifth-year had started the day with two hours of Transfiguration then one hour of theoretical DADA. After their lunch break, for those who chose who had chosen Arithmancy, like most of the people present in the room, they had two hours of it.

Then Muggle Studies, but they are in Slytherin, they are supposedly not allowed to take this course. So they had gone to the library for one hour, well for most of them. So here they were, after two hours of potions. The class had started, as usual, Slughorn had given the instructions and the students had begun brewing for two hours.

 

An hour and forty-six minutes later, Slughorn had left the class unattended for exactly four minutes and thirty-six seconds. In the meantime, Cassandre Parkinson had burst into the room, two minutes and fourteen seconds after the professor's departure, for private matters.

Four minutes and thirty-six seconds had passed, Slughorn had come back into the room. He had told Cassandre Parkinson, a fourth-year Slytherin, to settle his argument outside the class and had given the permission to his students to clean up their desks and to leave.

He had gone into his private storage room for exactly fifty-three seconds and had come back furious. The classroom was impeccable and all the Slytherin were ready to leave.

 

"No one moves." He had said. They obeyed. "Everyone sit. You too Parkinson." They obeyed. "One of you stole something of mine."

 

He told them what.

 

"We are going to settle that between us. You have fifteen minutes to give it back to me. If not, I will take this matter to Dippet and you will face the consequences of your action."

 

The silence was deafening.

 

"You have fifteen minutes. No less, no more !" Slughorn almost yelled. "I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my own house ! If I don't have the phial when I come back…"

He left the room and slammed the door violently behind him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

TOM

 

Slughorn left the room and just only a couple of minutes later, the door opened violently. The youngest Parkinson began shouting towards Walburga Black.

"From a letter ?" He yelled. "I've learned it from a letter ? You didn't even have the courage to say it to my face."

 

_What now ?_

 

"Cass…" She started.

"And you !" Cassandre Parkinson pointed his finger to Orion Black, cutting Walburga Black. "You fucking liar !" He shoved Orion Black's ink pot to the ground and grabbed him by the collar. "You look me in the eye and tell me you how much of traitor you are."

 

Thorus Nott, who was sitting next to Orion Black, heard the creek of the door announcing Slughorn's come back into the room. He pushed lightly Cassandre Parkinson and told him to calm down.

 

Tom started cleaning his desk, after Slughorn's order. He was eager to leave the room, head to the library, and carry on his research.

"No one moves." Slughorn said. They obeyed. "Everyone sit. You too Parkinson." They obeyed. "One of you stole something of mine."

 

He told them what.

"We are going to settle that between us. You have fifteen minutes to give it back to me. If not, I will take this matter to Dippet and you will face the consequences of your action."

 

The silence was deafening.

"You have fifteen minutes. No less, no more !" Slughorn almost yelled. "I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my own house ! If I don't have the phial by the time I come back…"

He left the room and slammed the door violently behind him.

 

_What the bloody hell ?_

 

No one dared move a finger or say a word. He turned back and faced the fifth-years.

"The one who did it, give the phial back." He said in a cold, stern voice.

No one moved. They were all staring at each other, suspicious.

 

Then, it began.

 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 15

ANTONIN DOLOHOV

 

 **The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article** **.**

 

"Well, we all know who needs it the most." He said putting his hands behind his neck leaning back into his chair, casually. "Malfoy, hand over the phial."

 

But for the matter, Antonin Dolohov was against his long-time friend, Abraxas Malfoy.

"Excuse-me ?" The blond asked puzzled.

"Come on, we all know about your father's problems with the wizengamot." Antonin Dolohov snorted, confident.

"Don't you dare talk about Septimus Malfoy that way !" Galbanda Greengrass spat right away.

"Call back your little pet Malfoy" Tom intervened. "If you have something to say for your family, do it yourself."

 

Orion Black snickered "Everyone knows cowardice runs in their veins."

Antonin Dolohov saw, in the corner of his eyes, Grace hide a smile.

"You have something to add Hortense ?" Antonin Dolohov asked her spitefully.

"Don't include me in your little pissing contest." She answered and sat on top of her table.

 

Antonin Dolohov and Abraxas Malfoy saw red.

"If we start accusing people, on their father's behalf, I guess Lestrange is one to blame." Edmund Rosier attacked his friend.

"Come again ?" Edgard Lestrange provoked, getting closer to Edmund Rosier. "What are you saying about my father ?"

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 14

EDGARD LESTRANGE

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would cause a mess between the most important wizarding families.**

 

"Come again ?" Edgard Lestrange provoked, getting closer to Edmund Rosier. "What are you saying about my father ?"

"As if you don't know. The entire wizarding world knows about your father. You even told me yourself. Come on man, there is another way to succeed than cheating. For once in your life, play fair and square : give the phial back."

 

Isodor Avery quickly rose from his seat and slot into the two Quidditch players. "Boys, calm down. It's not the right time to talk about that."

"Of course it is ! What could be the other reason than your parent's political scheme ?" Pax Zabini meddled while swinging his chair back and forth on two feet and throwing a green apple the air.

"You need a reason Zabini ?" Edgard Lestrange turned around, shoving Isodor Avery. "What about you ? You are a poor excuse for a Slytherin, with your grades, your behaviour, and now this ? Let's add thieve to your résumé."

"What's my connection with the phial ?"

"Haven't you heard what I just said ? Your grades are pathetic, everyone knows you won't pass your OWLS ! Who could need it more than you right now ?"

 

Pax Zabini stood up, his chair fell loudly on the ground, and he put his right hand into a fist, ready to punch Edgard Lestrange.

Cygnus Black held Pax Zabini by his shirt, stopping him from hitting Edgard Lestrange. "Mate, don't screw up, you've heard Slughorn if you fuck up one more time, you're out."

 

"We don't have time for this bullshit, we have only have thirteen minutes left until Slughorn returns." Galatis Carrow interrupted them, glancing at the mural clock. "Whoever stole the phial needs to give it back, right now. We won't tell his or her name." She gave a pointed look towards Antonin Dolohov and Belone Macnair.

"Lads, let's me stop you right now. I know who the culprit is." Milton Mulciber said loudly, full of pride.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 13

MILTON MULCIBER

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would revive old tensions.**

"Lads, let's me stop you right now. I know who the culprit is." Milton Mulciber said loudly, full of pride.

Everyone stared at him, expectantly.

"Belone Macnair." The short boy added.

 

The entire assembly sighed. And Belone Macnair rolled her eyes.

 

"Really Milton ? Aren't you sick of this family feud ?" Thorus Nott told Milton Mulciber, exasperated.

"For Merlin's sake Mulciber, stop this nonsense, you're too biased." Cassandre Parkinson intervened.

"Of course it's her ! I've told you already !" Milton Mulciber stomped his left foot.

"Really ? And what would be her reason ?" Walburga Black added.

"She is an untrustworthy bitch, what other reason do you need Black ?" Galatis Carrow shouted.

 

Tom sat on the teacher's desk and started massaging the bridge of his nose with his right hand, already fed up.

 

"Whoo catfight" Isodor Avery snickered across the room. Thorus Nott shook his head, a warning look in his eyes.

"Isodor shut the fuck up." Orion Black turned to face the two girls "We don't care about your boys problems."

 

The two Slytherin girls blushed. They exchanged an embarrassed look. Milton Mulciber cleared his throat : "Ok, if it's not Macnair then it must be Rosier."

 

"Mate, you can't just randomly accuse someone like that." Antonin Dolohov said.

"Of course it is convenient for you to discredit Milton when he is accusing Rosier." Abraxas Malfoy spoke up.

"I don't see your point." Antonin Dolohov replied.

"It's a public matter that the Rosier and Dolohov families are thick as thieves." Abraxas Malfoy rose an eyebrow.

 

Grace sighed loudly, annoyed with the entire situation.

 

"Aren't we supposed to be here to sort out who stole the phial ?" Grace arbitrated, irritated.

"That is exactly what we are doing Hortense, if Edgard has the phial, Nicolas Rosier has one step ahead." Abraxas Malfoy told her.

"So I was right, it's Rosier" Milton Mulciber stated.

"For once in my life, I agree with Mulciber." Belone Macnair retorqued bitterly.

 

Belone Macnair had not been really involved in the debate before her agreement with Milton Mulciber. As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Milton Mulciber looked at her, oddly. Her family was not known for getting on with his own, so it was quite the shock.

 

"And as expected Macnair accuses me !" Edmund Rosier laughed scornfully. "And no one hears her blaming somebody else, like, I don't know, Lestrange. Oh wait, their families are in business together."

"Shove it Rosier. Find someone else to be the scapegoat." Edgard Lestrange barked.

"No need, I have the culprit in front of me."

"Oh really ? Because I don't see you looking at a mirror !" Milton Mulciber uttered mockingly at Edmund Rosier. "You definitely need the potion to please your daddy."

"While talking about daddy, how's yours Parkinson ? Still kissing Tuft's ass ? Maybe they are already organizing your wedding ! " Orion Black provoked Cassandre Parkinson.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 12

ORION BLACK

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that made the important families want a piece of the cake.**

 

"While talking about daddy, how's yours Parkinson ? Still kissing Tuft's ass ? Maybe they are already organizing your wedding !" Orion Black provoked Cassandre Parkinson.

"So he can talk about his love problems but we're not allowed to ?" Galatis Carrow asked Tom, childishly.

 

Orion Black seized the opportunity and spat at the prefect : "Oh we're asking Riddle questions now ? Let me ask one : where did you put it ?"

Tom pushed himself from the desk he was sitting on. He took one step.

 

"Why would he need it ?" Milton Mulciber defended his friend.

"Yes Black, tell us. Why would I need it ?" Tom asked, emotionless.

"Well, apparently it is a political matter. We may have…" Orion Black showed the people in the room with open arms "... all a reason to steal the phial in order for our family to get more power, but you, Riddle, you have none and you may want some."

 

Grace laughed loudly from her place. The entire room stared at her.

"Are you listening to yourself Black ? Are you really believing every word you just said ?" She snorted. "Power may come from money and connection but you are the living proof that's not enough. True power comes from knowledge. And who's the prefect here ? Not you Black. Who's the top of the class ? Again. Not you Black."

 

She leaned and whispered loudly : "Guess daddy's power couldn't buy you a shiny badge."

 

Walburga Black had a maniac laugh.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 11

WALBURGA BLACK

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would make them reconsider their alliances.**

 

Walburga Black had a maniac laugh.

 

"Look who's talking ! The crazy one." She snickered. "Still on edge ? Haven't you slept well last night ? You don't need to answer love, the bags under your eyes answer for yourself."

 

Grace chuckled, and it irritated Walburga Black even more.

"We all know each other from birth, our parents know each other from birth too and so on and so on. But you Hortense, we don't know a damn about you. And you're the only here with a real reason to steal it. What would happen to you if Rosier succeeds ?" The eldest Black continued.

"Why are you talking about Rosier ?" Grace winced.

"Don't you know ?" Antonin Dolohov sneered. "The Rosier are for _the greater good_."

 

Walburga Black looked at Antonin Dolohov and nodded at him. He nodded back, as if they knew in advance this was going to happen.

 

"And why would I need the phial ?" Grace asked. "It doesn't make sense."

"Yes it doesn't make sense !" Edgard Lestrange parroted. "You are just proving us Walburga that Rosier needs it more than anyone else, well maybe except for you."

 

Walburga Black's eyes opened widely. "Me ?"

"Yes you !" Isodor Avery interceded. "Come one Walburga, we are all aware of your wedding."

"Why would my sister need the phial for her wedding ?" Cygnus Black wondered.

"Because she's been dating Cassandre for the last year." Belone Macnair yelled, dropping a bombshell.

 

The shock was unanimous.

"Well, the cat is out of the bag." Cassandre Parkison sighed.

"Now were are talking about secrets Belone ?" Walburga Black reacted to her friend intervention.

"You wanted a reason Black ?" Isodor Avery resumed. "Here's one. Now hand over the phial."

"Can't you be more wrong Avery ? She does not need any phial, she was not the one mad about the wedding, was she ?" Orion Black turned toward Cassandre Parkinson.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 10

CASSANDRE PARKINSON

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would make them reconsider their friendships.**

 

"Can you be more wrong Avery ? She does not need any phial, she was not the one mad about the wedding, was she ?" Orion Black turned toward Cassandre Parkinson.

"Don't start Orion !" Walburga Black ordered.

"Yes ! Do start mate !" Pax Zabini laughed. "Best. Potion. Class. ever." He snickered with Cygnus and Avery.

 

Cassandre Parkinson was shaking lightly, from anger. He knew what Orion Black was going to use as arguments against him and he already wanted to punch him in the face.

 

"Or maybe it's because of your brother, Parkinson." Orion Black declared.

"Don't you dare talk about my brother."

"And why not ? He is not here to defend himself. And where is he ? Oh yes, he got injured during the last Quidditch match because he is a part of the team. And you're not. Come on Parkinson, you can tell us you stole the phial, we're all ears and we won't rat you out to your brother. Maybe Mulciber is your accomplice. After all, between two second-to-the-heir you should help each other."

 

Milton Mulciber sank into his chair, embarrassed.

"Don't put Milton in the middle of it. " Thorus Nott defended his friend.

"And lad don't talk about Pollux when he is not here." Edgard Lestrange added.

 

"Yes let me talk about him. He won't be able to play the next game, so maybe you and your teammate need it." Orion Black stopped there.

"Wow, it's between Cassandre and yourself Orion. Don't forget it." Edgard Lestrange reminded the Black heir.

"You're right Lestrange." Orion Black smiled. "I'm going to marry your girlfriend Parkinson and there is nothing you can do to prevent it, and the little phial is not going to help you so turnover the phial."

 

Cassandre Parkinson shoved Orion Black repeatedly. The latter punched him in the face making his nose bleed.

"Stop !" Galbanda Greengrass shouted.

 

None of the two boys obeyed. They kept going on to the point that Orion Black was on the ground being hit by the younger Slytherin.

"Parkinson ! Black !" Tom arbitrated. The two boy stopped. "You all sit down and no one talks."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 09

ABRAXAS MALFOY

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would put them in the middle of a cold war.**

 

They were all sat in silence. Their position in the classroom reflected perfectly the tensions. Edgard Lestrange who was sat next to Edmund Rosier for the past five years was on the opposite of his friend. Belone Macnair and Walburga Black were 10 feet apart. Antonin Dolohov and Abraxas Malfoy weren't even looking at each other in the eyes.

 

Tom was leaning on the professor's desk, his arms crossed upon his chest. Next to him, Grace was still sat on her desk, facing the entire class.

 

At the back of the room, Isodor Avery, Cygnus Black and Pax Zabini were grinning altogether, apparently delighted with the situation.

Walburga Black was desperately trying to get Cassandre Parkinson's attention, but the latter was too busy sending killer stares at Orion Black to even notice.

Thorus Nott was focused on Grace, analysing her every move as if he was trying to solve a riddle.

 

Milton Mulciber had not risen his head since Orion Black's attack on him. His eyes were stuck on his knees and he was playing nervously with his fingers.

Galatis Carrow was fixing the clock on the wall, worried.

Antonin Dolohov finally turned his head to watch Abraxas Malfoy. As soon as he saw that the blond Slytherin was sat next to Galbanda Greengrass he snorted loudly.

 

The Malfoy Heir faced him. "Something you want to add Dolohov ?"

 

"We are not going back there" Tom cold voice, cut them.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 08

ISODOR AVERY

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would encourage them to fool the others.**

 

"We are not going back there." Tom cold voice, said.

"So what do you suggest ?" Isodor Avery asked casually.

 

Tom pushed himself from the desk and walked towards the middle of the room.

"Everyone ! Put your bag on the table." The prefect demanded. Everyone did exactly what they were told. "And now, you search."

"It is too easy to search through your own belongings." Isodor Avery argued.

"Ok, then your neighbor search your bag." Tom was pissed.

 

Isodor Avery knew this look. When Tom was about to get mad he always had the same piercing stare. So the boy shyly rose his hand.

"What now Avery ?" Tom allowed him to speak.

"It is too easy to put the phial in your neighbor's bag." Everyone looked at him "If you are guilty."

 

Isodor Avery rose up. "Does anyone think that I am guilty ?"

 

The silence that followed, answered the question.

 

"Thanks ? I guess." He started walking to the front of the class and grasped Galbanda Greengrass bag before putting it on Slughorn's desk. "Just to let you know, I could have done it if I wanted to."

"Avery…" Tom's voice was getting deeper.

"I'm just saying". The other answered raising his arms innocently.

 

The search did not last long. It was in none of them.

 

"So what now ?" Belone Macnair asked Tom.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 07

BELONE MACNAIR

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would make them reconsider every decision they ever made.**

 

"So what now ?" Belone Macnair asked Tom.

"Now we go back to the beginning." He replied, as evidence.

 

The class had started as usual, Slughorn had given the instructions and the students had begun brewing for two hours.

Milton Mulciber and Grace went first in the storage room to look for fairy wings. They were gone for less than a minutes.

 

"Milton and Grace went to the storage room !" Galbanda Greengrass declared.

"But we came back fast !" Milton Mulciber defended himself.

"Who went next ?" Isodor Avery asked.

 

Tom and Thorus Nott were the next. They stayed a little bit longer but came back with more ingredient than the two first one.

 

"We did." Thorus Nott simply said. "Then Lestrange went there. Alone."

 

Belone Macnair stared at the boy, suspiciously.

 

"Yes I went there alone, but only for thirty seconds tops. It doesn't mean anything." Edgard Lestrange replied.

 

The last couple of student who went back there were Antonin Dolohov and Pax Zabini.

 

"Then Zabini and Dolohov. You were the last one to get in there." Galatis Carrow described.

"So to sum up the only people in here who had access to the phial are Mulciber, Hortense, Riddle, Nott, Lestrange, Zabini and Dolohov." Cygnus Black stated. "This reduces consequently the field of possibilities."

"You're forgetting something." Thorus Nott said, fixing Grace. "Hortense and Mulciber went back there twice. Why's that ?"

 

Milton Mulciber looked as he was searching at the bottom of his memories.

 

"It's my fault. I messed up my potion, I did not know what to do so I went to see Grace and she helped me. Then we went back there to retrieve new ingredients. That's all. Nothing to fuss about." The short boy explained, rapidly.

"Actually, the only real suspects here are those who went twice or alone in the room. So Mulciber, Hortense and Lestrange." Isodor Avery recapitulated.

 

It seemed like the room quite agreed on this statement, except the defendants.

 

"Wait ! It's not because we went in there twice that we stole something ! We were two in there, we couldn't have stolen it without the other seeing it." Grace declared.

 

The entire assembly turned towards the same person.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 06

GALATIS CARROW

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would point towards a scapegoat**

 

The entire assembly turned towards the same person.

Edgard Lestrange.

 

"What ? Wait !" The latter barked, indignant.

"Well, everything points to you !" Edmund Rosier acknowledged.

"You fucking traitor !"

 

Galatis Carrow was not at ease. She had known the two Quidditch players for years and had never seen them this angry at one another. She could feel that the others were also troubled about the situation.

 

"We don't have time, we all have other things to do. Lestrange give me the phial." Tom ordered.

"I. Don't. Have. It. How many times would I need to tell you before you start finding the real culpable ?"

"Look mate, we've only been in this room for 9 minutes, and it feels like it's been hours. So we don't care why you took it, just give it to us, we won't tell Slughorn." Pax Zabini explained, tired.

"What don't you understand in I don't have the ph…"

"Just give it ! We won't even give your name !" Abraxas Malfoy almost shouted.

 

Edgard Lestrange put his hand on his face, exasperated.

"You're the only who could have done it ! You went there alone !" Walburga Black yelled, upset. "If not you, then who ?"

 

The question was a rhetorical one but it did not stop Milton Mulciber from whispering what would bring chaos in the room, again.

 

"I still think it's Macnair."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 05

CYGNUS BLACK

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would bring chaos.**

 

The question was a rhetorical one but it did not stop Milton Mulciber from whispering what would bring chaos in the room, again.

"I still think it's Macnair."

 

After that, hell was set loose.

 

Cygnus sat comfortably in his chair and witnessed his classmates tearing each other apart. He couldn't even distinguish who was yelling at who, it was only noise, accusation, and chaos.

 

Even Tom, the master of composure, had started blaming.

 

After one minute, Cygnus Black thought his head was going to explode. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

 

After chaos, there is always silence.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 04

EDMUND ROSIER

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would reveal their true colors.**

 

After chaos, there is always silence.

 

Edmund Rosier could hear his heartbeat in his chest. His hands were still clenching Edgard Lestrange's collar. He let go of his former friend.

 

They were all staring at each other, in a terrifying silence.

 

They were all recalling what they've just heard from their friends' mouths.

 

They were all trying to think, but they were too upset to do it properly.

 

"Let's start again then." Tom breathed.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 03

GALBANDA GREENGRASS

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would make people start talking.**

 

"Let's start again then." Tom breathed, for himself out loud. "Let's assume Lestrange is innocent. Where does Slughorn keep his private potions ?"

"Third shelf on the right." Antonin Dolohov answered, involuntarily.

 

All the Slytherins turned to face him.

"Let me stop you right there before you start assuming things. I got a detention three days ago and I had to organize this very room..." Antonin Dolohov justified.

"Yes, so you would have know exactly where to find it." Pax Zabini cut.

 

Galbanda Greengrass smiled. She knew from the beginning that Antonin Dolohov was too eager to point fingers to be innocent.

 

"And it was you who started accusing people." Grace applauded. " _Bravo ! Belle performance_ _!_ "

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

 

MINUTE - 02

THORUS NOTT

 

(WE HIGHLY RECOMMEND TO LISTEN TO GOODBYE BY APPARAT FROM NOW ON)

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would make people start doubting.**

 

"And it was you who started accusing people." Grace applauded. " _Bravo ! Belle performance_ _!_ "

 

Thorus Nott was not one to blame easily. He liked having all the facts. He liked analyzing them. And then, once he was sure, he would feel entitled to point fingers.

 

That was why he kept mostly quiet during the last thirteen minutes. And that was why he was analyzing his suspect words and posture.

 

"...you are crazy !" Antonin Dolohov spat at her.

"You've tried to fool us by accusing everyone else other than yourself !" Orion Black intervened.

"Who would accuse himself ?"

"See ! He didn't even deny trying to fool us !" Grace laughed.

 

It clicked in his head.

 

"Hortense ! Shut your…" Antonin Dolohov started.

 

"It's Hortense." Thorus Nott finally accused.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

MINUTE - 01

PAX ZABINI

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would make people do stupid things.**

 

"It's Hortense." Thorus Nott finally accused.

 

Grace turned around, the confusion was visible on her features. " _Quoi ?_ " (Trad : What ?)

 

"Don't even try. I know it's you. I've been analyzing you from the very beginning" Thorus Nott stated, calmly.

"She is smart enough not to steal... So evidently" Tom snorted

"You've been analyzing me ?! If you kept watching my every move, how could you have had all the facts about the others in the room ?"

 

Thorus Nott closed his eyes.

 

"But I don't even have a reason to have stolen it !" She almost screamed.

 

All eyes were on them.

 

"Yes Grace you have every reason." Thorus Nott replied, calmly. "Maybe you're not as skilled as we think and you need it for class, maybe you need it for revenge or maybe y-you.. And maybe, your friend…"

 

"Don't." Grace said, quivering a little, but with some much coldness in her voice that Pax Zabini felt shivers down his spine. He had never heard someone that desperate.

"...maybe you think, that with a little luck, not all your friends are dead."

 

Grace rose abruptly and headed towards him, ready to curse him. She shoved Pax Zabini who was standing in her way.

 

The classroom's door opened.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

TIME'S OVER

 

**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article. One that would make people see the truth.**

 

Slughorn entered the room precisely fifteen minutes after he left. The tension in the room was so dense that one's could cut it with a knife.

 

Fifteen students turned around and faced the professor. Two of them were still glaring at each other.

A phial dropped to the floor and broke at the same time.

 

Tom stayed stoic.

 

Antonin was surprised that it was not Abraxas.

 

Edgard smirked in front of the proof that it wasn't him.

 

Milton looked at Belone, still not quite sure it was not her.

 

Orion did not believe it.

 

Walburga sent an apologizing smile to Cassandre.

 

Cassandre accepted the smile.

 

Abraxas glared at Antonin, a haughty smile on his face.

 

Isodor couldn't accept the truth.

 

Belone gave a pointed look to Milton.

 

Galatis gasped.

 

Cygnus couldn't trust what he was seeing.

 

Edmund closed his eyes.

 

Galbanda grabbed Abraxas' hand.

 

Thorus realized he had gone too far.

 

Pax dropped the phial.

 

"Well Mister Zabini, I guess we need to have a little chat." Horace Slughorn declared.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

26.10.1942

 

_**The Daily Prophet had, this morning, released an article.** _

 

_**One that explained the sudden demission of the Minister of Magic, Leonard Spencer-Moon.** _

 

_**One that detailed how he did not take Grindelwald threat seriously and was obliged to step back.** _

 

_**One that gave the most important wizarding families in England a chance to step up.** _

 

_**One that would give every fifth-year Slytherin a reason to steal the vial.** _

 

_**One Hermione knew would create suspicion between the students.** _

 

 _**The Daily Prophet had,** _ _**this morning, released an article. One that helped Hermione Granger steal the Felix Felicis.** _

 

 

 _Step 4_ _: Done_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've got all the information.
> 
> Yes, our Hermione was the thief all along.
> 
> Is it the right phial which broke ?
> 
> \- Agara
> 
> DDM's Managers


	6. BROTHER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone but still below him" Tom thought. 
> 
> Stranded in a era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV 
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse 
> 
> _____________________________________
> 
> "Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me."
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> ___  
> Song : Brother by Matt Corby

10.11.1942

 

“I’m going to show you around Gracie ! You’re going to love it ! Did you know this is the only wizard town in all Great Britain ?” Milton said to Hermione enthusiastically.

 

They were walking alongside to reach Hogsmeade. A thin layer of snow was visible. Hermione put her scarf back tightly around her neck. She reminded herself to look surprise once they arrived. She saw, on the horizon, the little town.

 

Once in the main street, Milton raised his arms and shouted “Tada !”. She smiled. “First we going to join the lads ! They should be at the Three Broomsticks !”

 

Hermione sighed, exasperated.

 

“Come on Gracie ! Just for one drink, you won’t even have to talk to him. And then I’ll show you around !” Milton put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. She nodded.

 

They resumed walking towards the bar. “Have you started your Divination essay yet ?” He asked. She gave him a panicked look and he laughed.

“We should probably drop the class. We’re rubbish at it anyway.”

“Do you think we can drop it before our OWLS ?” She asked him.

“Already surrendering Hortense ?” She heard.

 

She rose her head and saw Tom smirking and leaning against the wall of the Three Broomsticks, along with Thorus. The rest of the group arrived at the same time as they did.

 

“You should see her level Tom, there is nothing much she can do except surrendering.” Milton snickered.

“Milton !” Hermione gently shoved the short boy.

“Nice to finally see you bad at something !” Thorus said, honeyed.

“Sorry I keep my Felix Felicis for my others classes.” She answered coldly.

 

Everyone, except Hermione, winced.

 

“Come on Grace !” Isodor told her.

“You know what, go get you drinks I’ll walk around. Somewhere he is not.” She turned around and walked by herself through the shops.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10.11.1942

 

Isodor sighed heavily and gave Thorus a side look. The latter got a little upset.

“I know, I know !” Nott said while entering the pub.

 

The others followed. They all sat in their usual booth. Tom was in the middle between Dolohov and Rosier. In front of him, Thorus was brooding. None of what was happening seemed natural. On any other day, they would have sat and started immediately talking. Milton would have cracked the same joke about wanting to drink alcohol and Isodor would have laughed at him. Lestrange and Rosier would have started arguing about their favorite Quidditch Team. Malfoy and Dolohov would have talked about politics and their families business.

 

But today was different. The last two weeks have been different.

 

If they were in a different house, everything would have been different. First, their head of house would have never allowed them to sort out the problem behind closed doors. Secondly, the aftermath would have been different.

 

In Hufflepuff, this would have never happened.

In Ravenclaw, they would have sat calmly around a table and talked through it.

In Gryffindor, they would have fought but at the end they would have forgiven each other.

 

But they were in Slytherin. And in Slytherin you don’t talk about the problem, you keep your arguments in a compartment in your head to use it later, as leverage. You never forget and forgive but you act like you did. The Slytherin way is all about power.

 

They were all sat around a table at the Three Broomsticks. From outside this inner circle, the Slytherins seemed normal, talking to one another and laughing. But Tom knew better.

 

_Look at you, sons of powerful men, wealthy and proud._

_Look at you, the elite of England, speaking several languages, with the finer education._

_Look at you, acting all grown up and yet being childish._

_Look at you, giving me the opportunity to rise._

 

“Finally we have some boys time !” Antonin announced, cheerfully.

 

Thorus was awfully quiet. Isodor saw him, brooding, and talked to him : “Mate give her some time. After all, what you’ve told her…”

“I know, I know !” Nott cut him, coldly. “I’ve apologized a thousand times !”

 

_Do not apologize Nott. You have done a wonderful job, without me suggesting it beforehand._

 

“Thorus, you have crossed the line. Deal with it.” Malfoy intervened.

“You should try and talk to her again. Maybe she will change her mind.” Tom suggested.

 

Thorus stood up.

 

“That’s a terrible idea ! Give her some time! !” Milton tried to reason his friend.

“Two weeks is enough. Look at you, you have all forgotten about it right ?” Tom smirked.

 

He felt the boys tensed.

 

Thorus stood, finished his drink in one go and left the place.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10.11.1942

 

Hermione sat down on her usual stool, took off her coat and scarf and smiled at Aberforth. He poured her usual drink and looked at her.

 

“Ok sweetheart, what’s wrong ?” He asked

“Nothing, everything’s fine ! What could be wrong ?”

“Still not talking to Nott ?”

“And you, still not talking to your brother ?”

“Touché !”

 

She gave him a knowing look.

“Do you want me to beat him up ?” He smiled.

 

She laughed.

“Maybe it’s a little violent and he is like twelve.”

 

He was about to give her the bottle for her to pour her own drink when he turned his head towards the entrance door.

“Tell me sweetheart. Does this Nott has brown hair and looks like a lost puppy ?”

 

“Yes why ?” She chuckled.

“He is here. Go hide in the bathroom. I’ve got you.”

 

She took the bottle and rushed in the first bathroom. She leaned on the door, closed her eyes and took a sip from the bottle. She smelled the odour of smoke. She opened her eyes and saw a tall boy, his back at her, taking a piss and smoking a cigarette.

 

He turned his face once, the fag still on his lips, and did not acknowledged her. He turned his face a second time, and then realized she was standing there.

 

Hermione was staring at his back, embarrassed. She took another sip. It seemed like he didn’t care she was there. She heard him zipping up his fly. He took his glass, finished it and turned around.

 

He took a good look at her but still did not open his mouth. They stared at each other for a good thirty seconds. He had a light smirk on his face revealing his amusement. Hermione was flustered.

 

He was smoking, she was drinking.

 

He got close to her, nicked the bottle from her hand and poured himself a drink. He turned around and leaned on one of the sink, located on the left.

 

“So, who are we hiding from ?” He asked and showed her the sink opposed to his with his head.

 She nodded, and before accepting his proposition to sit in front of him, got her bottle back

“A prick. ” She answered, detached.

 

He took the last drag, dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. “You should be even less precise.”

 

_Nice of you to think about Aberforth._

 

She snorted.

 

“Just tell me if you’re hiding from Aberforth because you stole a bottle.”

“Why would I do that ?”

“So I can sit more comfortably and witness him kicking your ass.”

 

She smiled and took a mouthful of firewhiskey.

 

“Should you even be drinking ? You’re like, what...twelve ?” He continued.

 

She laughed out loud remembering Aberforth saying the exact same words a few minutes ago. She stared him, defying look in her eyes, and choked a huge sip.

 

From the way he acted, he quite reminded her of a young Sirius Black. His entire look seemed perfectly messy, from his dishevelled hair to his light scruff on his face. His eyes were as dark as his hair and had this glint of mischief, the same she saw disappear in Fred’s eyes months prior. Her heart clenched a little at the thought. She took another sip.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be ?” She asked.

“Already trying to get rid of me ? You’re wounding me kiddo.” He responded carefree, grinning.

 

An easy silence settled.

 

“Actually, I’m only here for the free booze.” He said while taking the bottle, once again.

“It’s not free.” She snapped, taking it back.

“Well, you’re not of age to drink it.” He nicked it again.

“Neither are you !” She looted it back.  

 

Someone knocked on the door. Hermione held her breath. He and her shared a look and didn’t move.

“Grace ?” They heard.

 

_Did he really follow you there ? He is unbelievable, he just can’t take a hint._

 

She recognised that voice and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them back she saw him still staring at her, wondering what he could do. She realised she still had the bottle in her hand, she quickly gave it to the boy standing in front of her. He looked at it, as panicked as she was, he gave it back to her.

 

“You keep it !” He mouthed.

“No you ! You wanted it.”

 

It went one for a couple of more seconds.

“I’m coming in !” The voice said.

 

Hermione took the bottle, and gave him a sign to let him understand that the person at the door should not come in. He nodded.

 

“No don’t come in ! I’m not feeling well mate.”

“Pollux ?”

 

_Pollux ? It rings a bell._

 

“Thorus ?” Pollux asked.

“I’m looking for Grace, have you seen her ?”

 

Pollux turned around and looked at Hermione.

“What do I do ?” He mouthed.

“I’m not here !” She mouthed back.

 

“Grace Hortense ? Haven’t seen her !” Pollux said to Thorus.

“Ok, see you around mate.”

 

Pollux and Hermione heard the Slytherin go away.

“So, the prick we’re hiding from is Thorus Nott.” He concluded.

“Yep.” She said. “Thank you.” She continued sincerely.

 

He handed over his right hand and presented himself. “Pollux Parkinson, at your service damsel in distress.”

She took his glass, filled it with the alcohol and smiled.

 

“I’m the one with the bottle, I’m your life saviour here.” She told him while giving him back the drink.

 

They looked at each other, a small smile on their faces, rose their glasses. “Bottom’s up.”

 

* * *

 

 He laughed so hard he almost spilled his entire drink on the floor. He reached for his cigarettes in his jacket, lighted one then replied to what Hermione had just said.

“You’re so full of bullshit kiddo !”

 

She leaned more comfortably and defied him with her smile.

“It was not that hard you know.”

“Well if it’s not that hard, as you say, how come you ended up being a cat. I was going to ask you for your help. We have to brew polyjuice potion in sixth year. But I am really reconsidering it. ”

“Oh ! You really don’t believe I can brew a perfect one ? Let’s do it right now then !” She laughed.

 

She tried to rise up from her seat, but the alcohol in her system made her lose her balance.

Hermione steadied herself with the sink.

 

“It takes a month kiddo !”

“Another reason to start now isn’t it ? First step, we need a cauldron !” She replied.

Pollux was staring at her, in high spirits. Hermione opened her little purse.

 

“Where did I put it ?” She continued.

“You’re fucking kidding me. You’re looking for a cauldron in that bag ?” Pollux mocked her.

“How dare you mock my precious bag ? This bag is more valuable than your entire life Pollux !” She smiled.

 

“Valuable ? Well that’s not really complicated. But is it as pretty as me ? I do not think so madam.”

 

She laughed hard. “You are putting yourself in a competition with a purse, do you have no self confidence Pollux ?”

She kept seeking for the cauldron in her bag but only came across other objects.

“Fuck ! Oh there’s a broom in there ?” She spoke up to herself, surprised.

“A broom ? Show me your bag !”

“What ? No !” She protested.

 

Pollux looked at her, perplex.

 

“Grace, I know you like taking the piss out of me, but if you do so, be reasonable. Look at the size of your bag, it’s impossible you have a broom in this.”

“Merely impossible ! Have you heard of an undetectable extension charm ?” She answered proud.

 

At this moment she was not playing the Grace Hortense act. She was herself, Hermione. She liked talking to him, it felt as if it was natural and that she was her old self.

 

_It feels good doesn’t it ? It’s the first time in months you’ve lost track of time._

 

Pollux looked at his watch. “Well kiddo, we should probably get out of here. I know I told Nott I was not feeling well but I wouldn’t want people to start imagining disgusting things.”

 

He stood up and helped her rise. She first left the bathroom and got to the bar.

“Grace ?” She heard Aberforth say. “You were in there ? It’s been an hour, I thought you’ve left.”

She smiled, put the empty bottle on the counter and gave him money.

 

“That’s too much just for the bottle sweetheart.” The bartender told her.

“Pollux’s drinks are on me. And keep the change Abe.”

 

The exchanged a last smile then she left the bar.

 

Outside a freezing wind was blowing, but Hermione did not feel it. The alcohol made her feel warm and bold. She started walking in the streets.

 

_Let’s fucking find Riddle now._

 

She saw him with the lads looking at brooms. Hermione got closer to them, confident. She arrived at their level.

“Well !” She said.

 

They all turned around.

“No way !” Edgard laughed.

“Merlin, you go Grace !” Isodor outbidded.  

“Is she … ?” Abraxas started.

“Drunk.” Tom declared.

 

Hermione stood straight and looked at them incredulous.

“I’m not drunk ! I’m just…” She started.

“Drunk. Definitely drunk.” She heard a voice behind her.

 

She turned around and saw Pollux, standing there.

 

“Shut up.” She laughed.

“This is not appropriate language for a twelve year-old, kiddo. Isn’t it past your bedtime too ?”

 

She shoved him lightly. “Is it how you talk to the girl who paid for your drinks all day ?”

 

She saw in the corner of her eye Thorus looking at Pollux coldly.

 

“You thought my company was free ?” Pollux smiled.

 She snorted loudly. “I guess that’s how you became rich.”

Pollux’s friends gave him a sign for him to tag along.

 

“I’ll see you tonight right ?” He smiled.

 

He didn’t gave her the time to ask about what was supposed to happen tonight that he was already gone. A silence settled between the lads and her.

“You’re friends with Cassandre’s brother ?” Milton asked.

 

_Oh ! That’s why his name rang a bell !_

 

“You didn’t know him before ?” Edmund asked.

 

_Wait.. Did you just say that at loud ?_

 

“No, I’ve just met him.” Hermione answered.

“In the bathroom right ?” Thorus commented bitterly.

 

Tom smirked.

 

“How come you were served alcohol ?” Milton inquired.

“I don’t reveal my secrets that easily Milton.” She replied, giving a small look at Tom. “Can someone tell me was is suppose to happen tonight ?”

 

“Haven’t you heard ?” Isodor putting his arm around her shoulder. “It’s only Slytherin”s biggest party of the year.”

 

The two of them started walking back to the castle.

The walk from Hogsmeade to the castle had hepler her sober up. Inebriation had been replaced by sleepiness.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

10.11.1942

 

Tom had given the lads a meeting at 8:15PM, in a old classroom on the fifth floor. As he walked down the hall, he made sure no paintings were in the hallway. He could not risk them telling other person about those meetings.

Tom was avoiding them whereas Grace was interest in them. He had seen her, looking at paintings as she was analysing them.

 

He arrived in the room. The seven boys were waiting for him.

 

They were all sat around a circular table. The chimney behind them was about to put out. The atmosphere was perfect according to Tom. They were all staring at him, waiting for him to talk, to move, to do anything. He liked the power he had over his “friends”. He liked the way they looked up to him. So he cleared his voice and started talking.

 

“Good evening lads. Thank you for coming tonight. I suppose you are all wondering why I called you here...”

 

Tom looked at them, the seven pair of eyes were focused on him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

 

“... So let me start first by saying that I do not have much time for speaking and that secondly today is a time for speech rather than action. But do not worry lads, this time will come.

We are all aware that the wizarding world is changing. Maybe us more than anyone else. All of your families work towards the same goal even if maybe not together. We have too, a responsibility. A role to play to make our wizarding world brighter.

Newspapers had announced Spencer-Moon’s departure, if we may say. Newspapers had announced all of your families interest in taking his place. But the newspaper had praised your common competitor.

Yes, thousands of wizards and witches are, at this very moment, reading the article about the magnificent Wilhelmina Tuft. And where are your parents in all of that ?

Where does this “free press”, as they call themselves, come from ? They come from their owner. Every newspaper has a master, and it only answers to him. This press, which is absolutely submissive, molds the public opinion. And it is our duty to give the public opinion its freedom back.

If the real, and only suitable candidates cannot succeed all by themselves, isn’t your responsibility, as heirs, to help them achieve their goals ?

So thank you for coming tonight lads. Let’s build a brighter future together.”

 

They were all mesmerized by his speech. Hanging on every words Tom had just said. Analyzing each sentence.

 

_Hook. Line. And sinker._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

10.11.1942

 

Isodor had left her at the entry of Hogwarts, claiming he had to grab something by the kitchens.

 

She entered the common room. The Slytherin's colours were proudly display throughout the tapestry, the couch, the rags. The entire room was well lit thanks to the huge chimney and dozens of candles, suspended in the air. At the back of the room, a wizarding radio was broadcasting music. Foods and drinks were spread on a large table. People were chatting; laughing, and for the braver one, dancing in the middle of the room. Hermione didn't quite understood right away what was happening. Then she saw a banner : “Happy Birthday !”

 

She walked among the students and looked around her. She had never thought she would one day find the Slytherin common room welcoming. But, in this particular context, it seemed like she belonged there. She took a bite from a cake and poured a self a drink.

 

“Pax would have love this party. He was good friend with Cole” Belone spoke.

 

_He was just expelled, not dead. Stop being dramatic Belone._

 

“I still don’t understand why he did it.” Hermione lied.

 

Macnair shrugged.

 

“I like parties. It changes. People seem to have fun don’t you think ? ” Galbanda Greengrass entered the conversation. “Especially at Woodcroft’s ones. There is always something happening during those.”

“Last year Cassandre and Walburga got together for instance.” Belone explained.

“Woodcroft ?”

“Cole Woodcroft. He is over there.” Belone pointed to a tall blond man on the other side of the table talking to his friends. “Sixth year. It’s his birthday.”

 

Cassandre interrupted their conversation. He stood in the middle, grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey, poured a drink and grinned at them. “Evening Ladies.”

 

He drank one sip, turned to face Belone. “Have you seen Walburga ?”

 

The girl was slightly uneasy. “She is supposed to be here somewhere.”

 

“Has she talked to you about me ?”

“Not to me at least. You should as Rosier. He just arrived.” She pointed to the fit boy with broad shoulders. His light brown hair was perfectly styled.

 

Hermione turned her head towards the entrance of the common room and saw the eight boys stepping in. She frowned.

 

_Has it already started ?_

 

Thorus headed directly towards her. He had spotted her from the moment he set foot in the room.

 

_Oh no. Not again._

 

“We need to talk.” He told her, determined.

“Not now.” Hermione answered, annoyed.

“When then?”

“When I’ll want to.”

 

Hermione saw something in his eyes. The guilt she had seen for the last couples of weeks had transformed into frustration.

 

“You’re not the only one who has a say in this” He said, bitterly.

She scoffed.

“But I’m the only who should.”

 

As she left, his jaw tensed, his fists clenched so he took the nearest bottle of alcohol.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was talking to Isodor, a glass of firewhiskey in her left hand, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head and saw Pollux, grinning.

 

“Easy kiddo. That’s some strong stuff.” He took her glass and replaced it by a bottle of butterbeer. “Here, that’s better.”

 

Isodor chuckled. “How do you know each other anyway ?”

“She just wanted to check my, hum... how to say it...” Pollux replied.

“There was really nothing to check out actually.” Hermione snickered.

 

Isodor began laughing.

 

“Burn !” Cole Woodcroft said as he passed by.

 

Pollux turned around and tried to whack his friend’s head but missed. Cole, who witnessed the move, flipped him off. The birthday boy put a arm around Pollux’s neck.

“So who, in this room, has not seen your “business” ?” Woodcroft teased.

“And me who thought I was the only one.” Hermione intervened, faking sadness. “Happy birthday by the way.”

“One year older, yet not smarter.” Pollux mocked.

 

The latter got shoved in the ribs. A boy, older than Isodor, approached Pollux and whispered in his ear. “Mate, your brother is getting fucked up.”

 

As soon as he heard the words, Pollux exhaled loudly and slightly turned his head and looked for someone in the assembly. Hermione tried to follow his gaze, but the room was too crowded to see who he was looking for. She saw his jaw get tensed, and the frown of his eyebrows.

Abraxas and Tom got close to them. Malfoy patted Isodor on the shoulder to make him come with him. Tom, for his part, stayed.

 

“Butterbeer ? Is your head still hurting from your afternoon drinking Hortense ?” Tom told her.

 

_Well done Hermione ! You almost screw everything up this afternoon by drinking. What would have happened if Pollux hadn’t interrupted you in Hogsmeade ? What would you have done ? Punch Riddle in the face ? Though he deserves way more than that._

 

He had one hand in the pocket of his pant and the other one held a glass. A light smile was visible on his lips, one filled with contempt. He was wearing his school uniform, the slack and the shirt. And even if he was the only one wearing that, he fit the atmosphere.  

 

She knew from the way he was looking at her that he expected an answer from her. So she just smiled and ignored his silent plead.

 

“Tom, I hope you’re not on prefect duties tonight.” Cole asked a rhetorical question.

Riddle rose his glass and shook it lightly. “Not tonight Woodcroft.”

Hermione took back her glass in Pollux’s hands and replaced it by the bottle of butterbeer she was holding. “I see you’re serious about your position Riddle.”

“You’re the one to talk about seriousness kiddo.” Pollux re-entered the conversation.

“Shove it Pollux.” Hermione rose her eyes, playfully.

 

She saw, from the corner of her eyes, Tom’s lips pursed. He was looking strangely at Pollux, as he was trying to resolve a difficult math equation. Pollux opened his mouth to replied, surely sarcastically, but a loud noise from behind them interrupted him. The entire group turned around and faced Belone Mcnair and Milton Mulciber arguing.  

 

“Shut up Mcnair.” Milton spat.

“Oh you don’t want to talk about how a disappointment you are to your entire bloodline ?” The girl snickered.

“Shut up !” Milton’s fists were clenching from anger.

 

Hermione thought about intervening, but Pollux held her by the arm. She wondered at this moment how he knew what she was thinking, but she was glad he did.

 

“Filthy words coming out of a filthy mouth. Denniston wouldn’t be proud. How’s your brother by the way ? Are you still in his shadow ? If you can call his entire existence bright.”

 

Milton took a step forward but Antonin grabbed him by the shoulder. “Walk away Milton.”

“She…” The smaller boy started.

“Walk. Away. Milton.”

 

He obeyed. An unsettling silence spread in the room. On the other side of the room, someone turned the music a little louder, trying to cover for the awkwardness of the situation. Only just seconds after that, everyone resumed talking, as if nothing had happened. She chuckled silently.

 

_Slytherins…_

 

Tom started talking with Cole.

 

_He is really good at faking interessement._

 

She was analyzing him. The way he talked with ease, but still thought about very words that escaped his mouth. The way he looked directly in the eyes of his interlocutor, but still watched her discreetly. The way he seemed to listen to what Cole was saying, but still paid attention to every conversation around him. He was good at playing the part.

 

“Too late to hide now.” Pollux leaned closer to her and smiled those words.

 

It took more than a second for her to understand but apparently less than one for Thorus to start talking to her.

 

“You know what Grace ? “We” don’t need to talk. I need to talk. So keep your mouth shut if you want, but I won’t. I shouldn’t have said it that way. I know I fucked up, but you know what I was not the only one to think that !” His breath smelled like firewhiskey and his eyes were a little blurry.

 

“Th-They were too !” He rose his hands towards invisible people. “Everyone was ! But I was the only one brave enough to say it loud ! Should have said it a different way ? Yes. Do I regret saying it ? I did, but I don’t anymore.” He was struggling to get the words out as fast as his mind worked.

 

_Where is it coming from ?_

 

“Because I’m your friend Grace. And friends tell each other the truth of their mind. And I’m-I’m the only friend you have who’s not dead…”

 

“Mate…” Pollux and Tom said at the same time.

 

Hermione was shocked and confused by Thorus speech. The Thorus of two days ago, who waited shyly and patiently for her to talk to him was not the one standing in front of her.

 

_Where is it coming from again?_

 

She saw Tom at this moment. He flinched when he realised he had said the same thing as Pollux, as if it was something he had not planned.

 

“You !” Thorus pointed his finger at Pollux. “You little shit…”

“Calm down right now Nott. You’re stinking alcohol, you’re making a fool of yourself, so if I were you I would go to sleep.” Pollux got defensive.

 

She gave Tom her glass, turned away and got up to her dorm.

 

She slammed the door violently behind her.

 

_Fuck him. Fuck him._

 

She was feeling hot, not knowing if ti was coming from her anger or the chimney in the room. She took off her jacket. She walked towards her trunk, she opened it and put the cloth on top of others. She looked behind her to make sure no one entered the room. She got closer to the wooden container. Even if she knew she had put wards in her box, she had to make sure everything she hid was still there. She got on her knees and started searching through her belongings. And here it was.

 

The crystal phial.

 

_You didn’t have a choice Hermione. You had to._

 

The moment she had step a foot in the potion classroom she knew what she had to do.

 

_You didn’t use Milton Hermione. He is already bad at potions._

 

In the middle of the lesson, she had got closer to Milton’s cauldron, faking needing an answer from his potion partner. She had, in her pocket, berries. Ones she knew would not be fatal, but she knew would messed up his potion so he had to ask for her help. She had smiled when he came to her, like the good friend she was supposed to be.

 

_You are a good friend Hermione. Maybe even if you hadn’t screwed with his work he would have messed it up anyway._

 

They had gone to the storage room. She had told him what he needed to take in order to fix his brew. He had gone to the other side of the room.

 

_It was the perfect time to do it. You had been quick Hermione. You should be proud._

 

It only had taken a few seconds for her to put down the wards Slughorn had put up. It as unbelievable to witness such an important potion without strong defensive spells around it. Milton had smiled when she had gone back to the classroom. Cassandre had stormed into the room, yelling nonsense at Walburga and Orion. This had not been planned. But it was even easier for Hermione. Slughorn had come back furious from the storage room.

 

_So it began. You had chosen the perfect day Hermione. Knowing exactly when this article would come out. Reading that much old newspapers in your timeline was useful after all._

 

Hermione had witnessed something she had not imagined. She had known it would bring dissension, but not that much. She had just sat on her desk, intervened when she knew would be the perfect moment for. When Isodor had checked the bags she had smiled. She had been aware it would come to this eventually. That’s why she had kept the phial in her purse, around her neck.

 

She had known someone would accuse her, maybe Walburga or Dolohov. Even Tom she had thought. But not Thorus. He was the flaw in her perfect plan. Or she thought. But he had just given her the opportunity to put the wrong phial in Pax’s sleeve. Harry’s one. The one she had kept in her purse, hoping one day it would be useful. She had gotten closer to Nott, shoved Pax, slipped the wrong phial in his shirt, and cast a wordless sticking charm.

 

_It was perfect Hermione. Pax was just collateral damage._

 

Hermione exhaled loudly, trying to stop the memory to flow back. She was feeling guilty. Pax had been expelled. She knew one day it would come to this, so she had chosen the one she barely knew.

 

_Sorry Pax._

 

She took a deep breath, put the phial back in her trunk and headed toward the exit.

 

Hermione was walking down the stairs, her mind still remembering the events from the previous month but loud voices brought her back to reality. The two men, because those voices could not belong to women, were trying to whisper but the heat of the argument didn't allow them to do so.

 

"F-Fu-Fuck you !" One yelled at the other. He was so drunk that he struggled to heat the insult out.

"Cass..." The other one started.

 

She recognized that voice. She had  been hearing it all day long. She had heard that voice joyful and laughing before, but now it was dull and cold.

 

"Fu-Fuck off Luxie. leave m-me a-alone."

 

Hermione didn't know if the mistake in Pollux's name was due to the alcohol  or was on purpose but Pollux's face looked rather odd in reaction to the nickname. His eyes became sadder and swallowed loudly, as if to restrain to comment on it.

 

"Are you going to stay here, drunk as a skunk, and wallow in self pity over a girl ?" He decided to say at last.

Hermione got a little bit closer, just so she could see what was happening. Cassandre Parkinson was sat on the floor, a bottle of elves wine in his left hand. His older brother, Pollux Parkinson, was standing in front of him. The latter extended his hand and waiting several seconds in that position. Cassandre drunkenly slapped in had, refusing to get up.

 

"Fine ! Stay here !" Pollux said. "Drown your futile sorrows."

"Futile ?" Cassandre asked appalled. "Futile ?" He repeated, louder this time.

"Yes futile ! She is just a girl, and a bitch to be honest. So yes your problems are futile Cass. Grow the fuck up."

"Oh s-sorry Mister the perfect Heir of the P-Par-Parkinson family if my futile problems don't compare to your royals one."

"Fuck off Cass."

 

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Something was not right. The tension in the air didn't belong to two brothers, but rather to two acquaintances who had to save the face in front of others but secretly hated each other. There were too many secrets, too many unsaid things, too many missed opportunity to get along better.

 

She remembered what Orion said in the classroom, the way he had undermined Cassandre's authority putting Pollux above his little brother. As she looked at the youngest Parkinson, she not only saw a heartbroken drunk kid but also the weight of being the second child on his shoulders.

 

Hermione had never realised how hard it could be for a second-to-the-heir on a daily basis. She thought about Milton for a second. His fight with Belone only earlier in the night. How being born later than someone else became the worst insult someone could throw during a fight.

 

She got even more closer. If one of them turned his head to the right they would probably see her in the shadow of the stairs. But she didn't care, she was captivated by the conversation taking place in the corridor heading to the boy’s dormitories, or rather by the unsaid things.

 

"Are you gonna stand there or are y-you gonna leave m-me the fuck alone ?" Cassandre slurred after a painful silence.

"I should leave you alone considering everything. But I won't. You're not fine Cass and as your brother I just can't leave you like that." Pollux explained, sincere.

"Oh now you're playing the b-brother card. Save this role for when mum and dad are around."

 

Pollux exhaled loudly. He looked tired, like this argument was recurrent between the two Parkinson and he was sick of it. He stepped back and leaned on the wall.

"Aren't you tired of this Cassandre ?" He asked solemnly.

 

The other boy drank a sip of wine for an answer.

 

"Merlin, we can't talk with you !" Pollux concluded.

 

His little brother finally stood up. He put his empty hand on the wall to avoid himself from falling. "No Luxie, you just don't know how to talk to me and I guess it's now too late for you to learn."

 

Hermione saw Cassandre getting closer to the door so she hid in the dark corridor. The fourth year Slytherin got in his dormitory, slammed the door so violently behind him that it opened again and staggered away.  

 

Hermione, on the ball of her feet, approached. Pollux's face was lit by the moon's light, his cheeks seemed hollower and his eyes darker. He looked older, like this argument was so old and so rehashed that it showed on his features. He quickly rose up when he saw her, put the pain away and smiled as if nothing had happened. She only had to give him a shy smile for him to understand that she had witnessed what had just happened.

 

She handed him the glass of firewhiskey she had in her hand. He grabbed it and smiled.

 

"You'll be the death of me kiddo."

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

10.11.1942

 

This morning Tom had been waiting with Thorus in front on the three broomsticks. They were both leaning on the wall, hands in their pockets and talking about transfiguration. They have been standing there for the past 10 minutes while the other members of their group were watching brooms across the road.

 

“... all this fuss for brooms ?” Thorus grinned.

Tom snorted. He turned his head to the right and saw Milton and Grace coming their way. He smiled lightly to himself.

 

“Have you talked to Hortense yet ?” He asked casually.

 

Thorus stopped laughing.

 

“She doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ll give her more time.” He said, blasé. “I can understand why, I’ve gone too far.”

“Have you ?”

 

_First, doubt._

 

Grace and Milton were laughing while walking, Thorus saw them then turned his head towards Tom.

 

“Of course I have. First I’ve accused her of stealing, then told her she needed it to be good in classes and finished by assuming that with some luck not all of her loved ones are dead !” Thorus said, getting angrier at himself by the second.

 

“You could have been right. Wouldn’t you want luck if your friends were dead ? Wouldn’t you want luck to prove yourself if you had arrived in a new school ? You would have all the reason. And I would have understood why you would have done it.” Tom seemed to be reassuring. “You were right to point it out. She had all the reason. You were, apparently, the only one brave enough to say it out loud. Why would you take the blame for a thought everyone in the room had ?”.

 

_Second, anger._

 

Thorus gaze changed.

 

“You thought about it too ?” Nott asked.

“I know they did.” Riddle answered, giving a head sign towards the boys still looking at the brooms.

 

Thorus nodded lightly. “And why no one had said anything ? They were all blaming each other, but no one dared to accuse her. I did ! I’m the only one in this entire fucking class who stood up and told her.”

 

“You are a good friend Thorus. You are a good friend to her. You were the only one to tell her what you were thinking. They are all faking it. Look at Milton, he laughs with her, but he did not have the courage to tell her. You did. Maybe she doesn’t want to hear what you want to say to her, but you need to tell her anyway. Make her listen Thorus. Be the friend she needs.”

 

_And third, action._

 

“...you think we can drop it before our OWLS ?” He heard Grace tell Milton.

“Already surrendering Hortense ?” Tom smirked.

 

_Let’s play round 2 Hortense._

 

 **_Rule n°3 :_ ** _You do not get to run from the situation._

 

_Let’s see how you get out of this one._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! Sorry we took so much time to upload this chapter. 
> 
> One of us just moved to Paris so it's quite complicated to write using FaceTime. We won't be able to upload as quick as we did for the first 5 chapters. But don't worry we're not planning on stopping ! 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. it warms our heart to read them :) 
> 
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> Love 
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> \- Agara
> 
> DDM's Managers


	7. CLUB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Song : Club by Lomepal

 

15.11.1942

 

“I’ve contacted one of the editor at the Daily Prophet, no article about anyone other than Tuft is going to be released in the two weeks to come.” Thorus explained, standing, both of his hands resting on the wooden table beneath him.  “Unless something important happens.”

 

In front of him, Edmund Rosier shifted awkwardly.

“Is your father going to do something _important_ Rosier ?” Abraxas sneered.

 

_Not again._

 

The latter opened his mouth, ready to spat at Malfoy but Antonin put a hand on his shoulder from stopping him do to so. “No. You don’t need to answer.”

 

Then Tom clapped his hands, slowly and loudly. The seven boys stopped talking.

 

“Well done boys. And me, who thought, you could put your families quarrels aside for more than…” He checked his watch. “24 minutes. I can honestly say that you are progressing. Last time you had managed only twelve minutes. If you keep that pace maybe in a month or two we will be able to have a normal conversation for more than an hour.”

 

Tom knew they all valued his opinion, and he could see at this moment in their eyes the shame he had brought upon them.

 

“Thank you Thorus. You are the only sensible one here today it seems. Your information is very valuable and instead of provoking Rosier about his father’s behaviour, maybe if all of your fathers did something _important_ the same day it would force the Daily Prophet to actually write something about them.”

 

They all nodded, understanding perfectly what Tom was implying. It was nearly lunchtime so Tom dismissed them. The eight Slytherins took their bags, and left the room. The seven boys were walking in front of him. It took a couple of minutes to reach the big arteries of Hogwarts from the room they held their meeting. Abraxas and Dolohov seemed to have lost their mutual resentment.

 

They all turned to the left, in the main corridor.

 

_Well, look who is here._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

15.11.1942

 

They had run into each other couples of minutes prior. She had been walking down the halls in order to get to lunch whereas he had got out of his transfiguration class. Once he had seen her, he had taken her by the arm telling her that he would escort her to her destination.

“Kids under 13 years old are not allowed to travel on their own kiddo.” He had told her.

 

They now arrived in the main hall. Students were running in every direction and it was quite hard for the both of them to get through those waves of kids.

 

“Have you read the last article from Dedal Sphields ?” Pollux said.

“The one about protective runes ? Yes it was really interesting !”

 

_Wait a few weeks and you’ll see that everything he wrote is wrong._

 

She took a quick glance to her right and saw Isodor and Edgard. She knew the other boys were not far behind.

“What are you wearing tonight ?” She heard Milton ask not far behind her.

“The emerald green cashmere robe my great uncle just sent me from Paris. And I was wondering about the dragon hide shoes. Should I wear the grey tie or the black one ?” Abraxas wondered. “What about you ?”

“Well… I just wanted to change my shirt … ? I’m not so sure now...”

 

Hermione smiled to herself.

 

_Please never change Milton._

 

“Milton ! You should make an effort for merlin’s sakes. If you keep not taking it seriously Slughorn is not going to invite you again.”

 

_Come again ?_

 

“And you are taking it too seriously ! It’s just some poshy dinner !” The small boy retorqued, offended. “It’s the fourth since the beginning of the year ! I didn’t bring that much fancy clothes.”

 

_The fourth ? They’ve been to four dinners ? Four fucking dinners ?_

 

_Please don’t tell me that you’re talking about the Slug Club._

_Please don’t tell me that you’re talking about the Slug Club._

_Please don’t  tell me that you’re talking about the Slug Club._

 

“You are well aware of the club’s dress code.” Abraxas concluded.

 

_Fuck._

_What are you going to do ? Think Hermione for fuck sakes._

 

Hermione started to panic.

_How come it had started already ?_

_How come you’re not invited ?_

_Who did Slughorn invite ?_

 

Her heart rate sped. Her fists were clenching. Yet, she still walked as if everything was fine.

 

_How come tonight is already the fourth dinner ? How come he had already hosted four and still didn’t invite you ?_

 

Her eyes were focused on the end on the corridor. Her palms were a little sweaty. Yet, she acted as if everything was fine.

 

_You’ve been here for two months, busting your ass to get invited in those fucking parties and yet you’re not getting in !_

 

She was mad and confused. She had thought the day Slughorn would decide to plan his first dinner she would be at the top of the guest list.

 

“Ok, you’re not listening.” Pollux told her.

“Sorry what ?” She rose her head to meet his eyes.

 

He laughed. “What were you thinking about kiddo ?”

“Nothing ! Let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

 

_Hermione, you need to get things done._

 

Pollux left her with a smile at the end of the Slytherin table. She sat down next to Milton.

 

“Hi Grace !” Isodor greeted her.

“Hi ! Haven’t seen you all morning, what have you been up to ?” She replied to all the lads, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Just playing Quidditch.” The boy answered automatically.

 

_Sure you were._

 

She nodded casually as if she was believing his lies and she knew she was convincing in doing so. She took a small bite from her plate.

Thorus, in front of her, seemed quite focused on his shepherd pie.

 

_Do you think he still feels guilty ? Of course he does._

_Use it._

 

“Thorus ?” She asked. “I’m going to study History of Magic tonight, would you like to tag along ?”

 

He rose his head and swallowed loudly.

“Hum.. I can’t tonight.” He gave a quick look at Milton. “I have a dinner.”

 

_Of course you do. I guess all of you do._

_The question real is : why are you not invited Hermione ?_

 

\-----------------------------

 

19.11.1942

 

_Four days._

_Fours days you’ve been wondering why you were not invited to the Slug Club._

_Four days you’ve been trying to find out why._

 

_Fours days, and you’re still fucked._

 

Binns was rambling in the background. His stern voice was putting each Hufflepuff and Slytherin to sleep. She was sitting in the middle of the room, next to Belone, who was napping soundlessly. An heavy rain was pouring outside and dark clouds were announcing a storm in the next few hours.

She stared at the papers in front of her. The doodles were here. The same one she drew a couples of weeks ago : “s” shaped but bolder and larger than the last time. She quickly got rid of the quill she had in her hands. She didn’t even realise she had been drawing them.

 

\-----------------------------

19.11.1942 

 

Isodor sighed loudly, his eyes still focused on the charm book in front of him. Hermione rose her head and looked at her friend. She didn’t know if she had to speak up and help him or just ignore him. She opted for the latter and went back to her own homework.

 

_Does Slughorn think I am too damaged by the war to go out in public ?_

 

Isodor sighed. Again. She stopped reading and cleared her throat. He rose his head, smiled and carried on. She wondered if she helped him with his homework would he be keen to speak to her about it ?  So, she whispered his name.

 

\-----------------------------

19.11.1942 

 

Her stomach had been rumbling since 9AM. She had gotten a part of her appetite back, not enough to eat a proper meal though. She knew Milton had two free periods right now, same as her. She headed down the common room and found him sat on the couch, reading a novel. Once he saw her, he rose to from his seat. She knew he would be up to for an early lunch. So at 11:35 AM they went to the Great Hall. The giant room was almost deserted. They sat down in front of one another, he took a bite of chicken.

 

_Well Milton, time to talk._

 

\-----------------------------

19.11.1942 

 

Mr. Wink, the charm professor was explaining the wand movement for the silencing charm. In front of her, Cygnus and Isodor did not seem to listen to a word he was saying. She leaned slightly towards them in order to catch up on what they were saying. It was mainly about Quidditch, girls and brooms.

She looked around her, seeking a reason to ask them a question.

 

_Maybe you should add a Black to your informer’s list._

 

\-----------------------------

19.11.1942 

 

Thorus was quite surprised when she sat down next to him in Runes. He weakly smiled, afraid to screw up again by talking without thinking first. She responded to his smile. She felt he was uneasy and she knew he still felt guilty about what had happened. He would do almost anything for her to forgive him completely. So she seized the opportunity.

 

_Let’s see Thorus. If you give me valuable information, I might reconsider my anger towards you._

 

\-----------------------------

 

19.11.1942 

 

_Four days._

_Fours days you’ve been wondering why you were not invited to the Slug Club._

_Four days you’ve been trying to find out why._

 

_Fours days, and you’re still fucked._

 

She settled behind her usual telescope. She liked astronomy classes, watching the stars and thinking. She was used to having Isodor next to her during this lesson, so when she heard someone sitting besides her she said, sarcastically “Tonight, you’re gonna listen and not copy off my note, _chaton_.”

“ _Chaton_? You are calling Avery “kitten” ? Tom mocked.

 

She turned around abruptly and blushed lightly.

 

_Maybe if you obliviate yourself you might forget you called, by mistake, Voldemort “kitten”._

 

“Where’s Isodor ?” She asked, nonchalantly.

“I asked him to switch seats with me.” He answered honestly.

 

_Why ? He’s never sat next to you before._

 

“Fine. Suit yourself.” She settled for, faking indifference.

 

He adjusted his equipment, took a parchment from his bag then leaned comfortably in his chair.

 

“Still wondering Hortense ?” He spoke up.

“What ?”

“Come on. Don’t play naive. You have spent your entire day questioning, not so subtlety if I may add, the lads. “

 

She gave him a pointed look.

 

“You thought you were subtle ?” He chuckled. “You might need to reconsider your moves Hortense.”

 

She kept glaring at him.

 

“And yet you have missed asking the right people.”

 

He got quiet for a few seconds, building the suspense or just enjoying seeing her this confused.

 

“You talked only to boys about it. Were your female friends not available for your interrogation or have you not even thought about sharing your interrogation with the fairer sex ? And me who thought you were not stupid. If you had asked them, they would have told you that they were not invited to our little gatherings either.”

 

She felt stupid. They were in the forties and Slughorn was quite old school.

 

“And to be totally honest, I am hurt you did not come to see me. I thought we were friends Hortense.” He mocked her.

 

_Friends. Yeah right._

 

“Friends ? We barely talk.” She spat.

“And you want that to change ?” He smirked.

 

_That is not part of The Plan._

 

\-----------------------------

 

20.11.1942

 

She would have never thought she would be glad she had talked to Tom. She felt quite conflicted about that, but he had given her the answer she had been looking for for days now. She knew she had to do something to get Slughorn to invite her. But what ?

 

Last night, when she had got up to her dorm and crawled under the sheet but she had not been able to sleep. Her brain had been mulling over it. In spite of getting a good rest, she had a little idea of what she could do to get it.

 

During her first period, Divination, she had ordered a special gift for Slughorn via the Owl Post.

 

While working on her brewage, in her two hours potions class, she had smiled at the professor, more than she usually did. She also had laughed louder at his lame jokes and praised his humour.

 

At lunch, she had got closer to the professors’ table and had given the large potion teacher an article she had found intriguing and that might be interesting for him. He had thanked her, talked a little and gave her a little tap on the shoulder.

 

Tom was watching her, and he had his peculiar smirk on his face. It seemed as he was enjoying seeing struggling to get in. She tried not to get bothered by that.

 

\-----------------------------

 

23.11.1942 

 

She went to the Great Hall for breakfast. She sat next to third-year slytherin girls. None of the boys were there yet. She took an apple from the silver plate in front of her, poured a glass of pumpkin juice and waited. Tom arrived first. He sat right in front of her and filled his plate in silence.

 

Hermione heard flapping. She rose her eyes to the enchanted ceiling and saw Owls entering the big room. An elegant brown bird dropped a package before her eyes. She delicately took the box, fed the owl and the animal went away.

 

“Fancying crystalized pineapple ?”

It was the first time one of them talked in the last five minutes. She looked at him, not sure what to answer.

“Funny, those are Slughorn’s favorite. What a coincidence.” He continued, impassible.

 

He drank a sip of tea. “One could believe you have something in mind.”

 

_Keep teasing Riddle._

 

“How slytherin of me.” She replied.

 

He smirked.

 

She finished eating, if anyone could call an apple a real meal, just when the other boys entered the room. She gave a quick smile at Milton and Isodor and headed towards the door.

 

\-----------------------------

23.11.1942 

 

Two hours of transfiguration had been the longest Hermione had ever experienced. Whether it was seeing Dumbledore parading in front of his students or just learning the same subject she worked hard on a couple of years ago. He gave them an essay to write.

 

“Wait up !” The professor had said. “Do not forget the essay on animagus for mid december. I am giving you plenty of time, so I am expecting some quality.”

 

Just remembering this, Hermione sighed. She liked transfiguration, at least when McGonagall was teaching it. She had weeks to complete this assignment and she had more important business to get to for the meantime. She took her bags and walked down the halls. She turned left, into a deserted corridors.

 

Slughorn had not been reacting the way she had hoped this past week, so she figured she had to make her own luck. She opened her bag, ready to take out the bit of enchanted parchment, when she heard his loud voice. She rose her head and saw Slughorn strolling in front of her alongside another student, a seventh year Gryffindor.

 

_Speaking of the devil._

 

“Good morning Professor !” She smiled.

“Good morning Grace ! How are you doing my dear ?” He cheerfully answered. He gave a nod towards the older student, dismissing him.

 

Hermione waited a couple of seconds just for the Gryffindor to get far enough.

 

“Did you know that this student, Heslphius Hemsdale, had been spotted by the Puddlemere United ? Apparently they just signed a contract for next year, but it is still a secret, they ought to let go one of their other players. You didn’t learn it from me.” She winked.

 

The way he smiled hearing the gossip brought satisfaction to Hermione. They chatted for a little bit longer, then she headed towards her theoretical defence against the dark art lesson.

 

\-----------------------------

 

23.11.1942 

 

Hermione tried to focus on her potions, but she kept sending quick glances at Tom. The minute he had entered the classroom he had seen the open box of crystalized pineapple on Slughorn’s desk. Even though he had known from the minute the owl dropped the box this morning that she would use it as a gift to their potions’ professor, he still looked quite surprised. Had he imagined she would gave it to him later ?

 

Without Snape as a professor she found potions to be a relaxing subject. Of course, being 3 years older than anyone else in the room and mastering each potion perfectly certainly helped too.

 

Two hours after the class had officially started, Slughorn asked them to bring their phials to him. The crystal containers started filling his desk. Hermione took as long as she could to thoroughly clean her table and bring him her potion. She wanted to have time alone with him, laugh a little, and give him the hint that she knew about the club and that she wanted to get in. But apparently Tom had decided that his potion lab needed to be immaculate too.

 

_What a coincidence._

 

There was just the three of them now. He had a light smile on his lips, but his amusement turned into taunting.

 

“Professor !” He declared. “Thank you so much for the last dinner, it was a very pleasant evening. I have just received the invitation for the next gathering. I wanted to offer you some of your favorites treats, crystalized pineapple as a gift, but apparently you do not need more.”

 

He shot a knowing looked at Hermione.

 

He got closer to the door but turned around just before leaving. “Just to be sure sir, it is the last dinner before your annual christmas party, isn’t it ?”

 

“You’re quite right Tom.” The professor smiled.

 

Just before leaving the room Tom winked at Hermione.

 

_Well, time to bring out the big guns._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

26.11.1942

 

“She is a half-blood mate. Respect yourself.” Edmund chuckled.

“A girl is a girl Rosier.” Edgard replied.

 

Tom rose his eyes to the sky, already bored by the conversation. They were sat at the back of the room for their weekly monday class of history of magic. Abraxas, behind him, snorted at their conversation.

 

Edmund turned around. “Oi Malfoy ! You don’t have a say in this conversation.”

 

The blond boy raised an eyebrow, wondering what his friend meant by that.

 

“You’re soon to be married, you’re already dead in the game.” Edgard explained.

“More girls to us then.” Milton smiled.

“That’s right Milton. Go get them, ace.” Isodor patted him on the shoulder.

 

They kept going like that for the next ten minutes before one of the lads began talking about Quidditch.

Tom turned his head to the right, in the direction of Grace. He was used to her listening to every words they were saying even though she tried to be discreet. But today she was too focused on her book to even acknowledge them.

 

Tom realised the class was over when Thorus, next to him, rose from his seat and started gathering his belongings. He heard Edmund telling the lads about their Quidditch practice and inviting them to see the team. Rosier even turned around and asked Grace, but she politely declined by telling him that she needed to go to the library. After that, she left the room.

 

The eight Slytherins directly steered to the Quidditch pitch. Despite the thick fog covering this part of Scotland, Edmund and Edgard seemed thrilled to play. A small boy, barely 12 years old, shyly approached Tom as he was walking in the corridors.

 

“Excuse me.” The little boy whispered.

 

Tom lowered his gaze. The boy appeared impressed by Tom’s stature. He glanced at him but quickly looked the other way.

“Yes ?” Tom replied in a steady voice.

“There is a problem on the first floor.”

 

Tom frowned his eyebrows. He gave a little nod to the lads and followed the first-year on the floor above. Once he arrived, he saw Peeves bothering a group of young Ravenclaws.

 

“Peeves, you know I will not hesitate to call the Bloody Baron.” The prefect spoke up.

 

Peeves turned his head towards him, shrugged and left the boys alone. The way that Peeves didn’t protest more gave Tom the hint that he was up to something. He didn’t wait for the boys to thank him that he was already following, discreetly, the ghost. He arrived in front of the library, quickly scanned the surroundings and found no trace of the poltergeist. He followed the only path he could take : the library. He pushed the door open.

 

The smell of parchment and old books tackled his nostrils. He stepped into the room. Students were working on their essay, on the right, study groups were gathered to talk about transfiguration. And where Grace was supposed to be, she wasn’t. She had the habit to sit on the left corner, next to the window. Even if it had been only a couple of months since she arrived, Tom knew she would not change her seat.

 

He had already forgotten about the Peeves’ issue, and was now trying to figure out why she had lied. He walked around the library, just to make sure she was not seeking for a book. And, as he had predicted, she was not.

 

He headed towards the exit to join the lads on the Quidditch pitch.

 

_She is up to something. Well, I already knew that. But let’s be honest, her behaviour had been rather odd for the past few days._

 

Tom had expected her to follow Slughorn like his shadow the past weekend in order to get in. But she didn’t. She had had her head down her books all saturday and sunday, declining every invitation to hang out each of her classmate had made her.

 

He was walking alongside the courtyard now, a light rain wetting his hair.

 

Tom had not expected her to give up that easily.

 

He shook his head.

 

She did not give up. He was sure of it. She was always disappearing somewhere. He had noticed that each wednesday night she was nowhere to be found. It was not as if he had looked for her, but he had wondered about her whereabouts. And the fridays. Every friday, they all had a free period right before their double potion class, and every friday, she fled somewhere no one knew where.

 

Since the moment he had seen her in the great hall, on the 2nd of May, he had known she hid something. Her story was not coherent.

 

He couldn’t deny the fact that she had lived through a war.

He couldn’t deny the fact that she was more experienced than everyone their age.

 

However, he couldn’t help but notice her attitude towards the deputy headmaster.

 

_He is supposed to be the only one able to defeat Grindelwald. So why does she resent him ?_

 

He couldn’t help but notice that she appeared to know Hogwarts quite well for someone who had just arrived.

 

_It took me more than full year to know this castle. How come she manages to find her way that easily  in only three months ?_

 

Tom arrived on the Quidditch bleacher and sat next to Milton. The shorter boy asked him about what the first year wanted and Tom briefly explained, his mind still focused on his french classmate.

 

_I know she is a spy._

 

\------------------------------------

 

26.11.1942 

 

Tom left the astronomy tower. The sky had cleared and the full moon was visible among the stars. A chill breeze passed through the trees below them and produced a dreadful noise. He put both of his hands in his pocket to warm them and started going down the stairs.

 

“Didn’t you fancy switching seats with Isodor this week Riddle ?”

 

Grace was walking next to him. He found it strange because she had not spoken a word to him in the past three days.

 

“Why would I do that ?” He asked.

 

She gave him a look he had never seen before. She seemed puzzled.

 

“We are not friends Hortense.” He continued.

“You’re right.” She replied. He saw realisation in her eyes, not anger or disappointment, just true awareness.

 

She gave him a quick nod and joined Milton. He did not know what to think. First, he just realised he had been harsh to her not that he minded, and second, she didn’t seem to care at all.

 

\------------------------------------

 

27.11.1942

 

Tom woke up earlier than usual. He got up and went to the bathroom to get ready. Once he got back to the dormitory, his roommates were all soundly asleep. He, of course by inadvertence, dropped his shoes on the floor, producing a loud noise.

 

“The fuck !” He heard Isodor shout at the opposite of the room.

 

Tom smiled. He liked bothering them.

 

On his way out, he slammed the door behind him.

 

“Fuck you Riddle !” Antonin screamed.

 

Tom grinned.

 

He made his way to the dining hall were Abraxas and Grace were eating. The silence between them was frightening. Tom figured that they had sat in front of each other by habits rather than by wish.

 

He sat next to Malfoy and started eating. He liked the fact that none of them talked. He didn’t need to be bothered early in the morning. The blond boy just started his second plate of scrambled eggs when Grace just finish her small bunch of grapes.

 

_Still not eating I see. She ought to eat more._

 

Minutes passed and not a word had been said. Their peaceful, as Tom thought, breakfast got interrupted by the daily mail delivered by the owls. A copy of _The Daily Prophet_ dropped right beside his plate. Abraxas got a few letters from his family members.

 

And for once, Grace got something other than her morning paper. She had correspondances.

 

_This is new._

 

\------------------------------------

 

27.11.1942

 

He stirred his potion clockwise and let it simmer for a couple of minutes.

 

He leaned in his chair and took a good look around the class. He noticed that Walburga Black was almost at the same stage as he was. Behind him Thorus and Abraxas were more focused on bickering insignificant details than the actual potion.

 

In front of the class, Grace was silent and concentrated on her work. She had not played her usual role today : no flutter of eyelashes and no exaggerated laugh on lame jokes. Something was not right.

 

_How come she went from being Slughorn’s pet to this ?_

 

She was writing notes on a parchment even though it was not necessary given that the professor was sat in silence at his desk.

 

From this moment on, Tom noticed she did not stop writing for the rest of the class.  

 

_What are you writing Hortense ? Or who are you writing to ?_

 

He waited for the students to leave the classroom and gave Abraxas a little nod. The blond Slytherin understood and waited for Tom outside the classroom.

The started walking in the corridors and turned on the left when everyone kept going straight. The passageway was empty.

 

“What do you have got for me ?” Tom asked him.

“Nothing much since last time.” Malfoy answered.

“Are you saying to me that no one answered your letter ?”

“Yes they did, but it matches with what she had told everyone.”

 

Tom got frustrated and exasperated.

 

“What about the paintings ?” The prefect sighed.

“What about them ?”

“You are supposed to be monitoring her Malfoy and you are telling me you that have not noticed that she keeps talking to the bloody paintings ? You are useless.”

 

He left his classmate in the hallway and went to the Great Hall for lunch.

 

\------------------------------------

 

28.11.1942

 

He was alone in the common room. All of his fellow Slytherin had already gone to bed. He was installed in one of the comfortable couch, a copy of _Hogwarts : A History._ He figured out he needed to read it again, he must have missed something.

 

The door to the common room opened quietly, but, with the silence that was settled in the room, Tom heard it. He moved his head towards it and saw Grace trying to sneak in discreetly.

 

“It is after curfew Hortense.” He said, using his prefect voice.

 

She jumped a little and but once she saw him, her face became impassive again. She did not respond and headed towards the girl’s dormitories stairs.

 

_Remember **Rule n°3** Hortense. _

 

“5 points from Slytherin.” He told her with a stern voice.

 

She turned around.

 

“You can’t do that.“

“I am prefect, of course I can.”

“As a matter of fact you can’t. Only the HeadGirl and HeadBoy can do that. You can only give me detention Riddle.”

 

His jaw tensed and he grinded his teeth.

 

“Detention then.”

 

She froze.

 

“Unless…” He dragged this word for a little while. “You tell me where you were.”

 

She descended the step she was on, and started walking towards him, a small smile plastered on her face.

 

“As if I cared about a detention.” She laughed. She stopped in her tracks and they glared at his each other for a couple of seconds before she turned around again and climbed the stairs.

“You’ll tell me later when and where I am supposed to go for this detention Riddle.” And with that, she disappeared in the darkness.

 

 ** _Rule n°4_** : _You do not get to play me._

 

\------------------------------------

 

30.11.1942

 

On this friday morning, the sun was shining and the snow on the ground seemed even whiter than usual. Enveloped in a warm coat, gloves and scarf, Tom was walking near the black lake. He enjoyed being alone during his walks, it allowed him to think. And on this friday morning he had a lot a thinking to do.

 

He looked at his watch and noticed that it was nearly time for his first period : transfiguration.

 

He sat next to Antonin. They had moved on from Incarcerous even though most of the people in the room were not able to conjure a step 4 rope. They had all year to master it Professor Dumbledore had said.

While writing what the latter was saying, Tom’s mind got somewhere else.

Since this summer he had been thinking about it. He had been studying every book, each article ever made on it. He was 100% sure it was somewhere in this castle.

 

“Tom.” Antonin said.

 

He looked at his friend.

 

“Class is over.” Dolohov continued.

 

This sort of situation seemed to happen more than usual lately. He nodded, got up and followed his classmate for one hour of theoretical DADA.

Grace came to theoretical classes. She even participated during those. But since the incident in september with Dolohov she had been avoiding practical classes.

Tom knew that she had messed up during this class, she had been overwhelmed and had lost the control.

 

_That was your first mistake Hortense._

 

So there he was, on his wooden chair, a quill in his right hand, and a brain, kilometers away from the class.

This morning he had been also thinking about his meetings with the lads. They were all pureblood, from the most sacred lineage, and yet, when Tom speaks, they all listen.

 

\------------------------------------

 

30.11.1942

 

Tom entered the potion classroom and sat behind his usual potion lab. On the blackboard behind their professor was written _Strengthening Solution._ He opened his potions book and looked through the ingredients : salamander blood, powdered griffin claw, ect..

 

Once every student was sat, Slughorn cleared his voice.

“Now that everybody is here, Slytherin is the house of ambition and cunning and one of you proved everyone that it was true today. I’d like to congratulate Grace for her amazing work on her Runes article”.

 

_Excuse-me ?_

 

He rose his head his head and stared at her. She had a modest smile on her lips but he could clearly see that it was all pretending.

 

“If anyone in this class is familiar with Dedal Sphields work you may know that two weeks ago he released an article about protective runes. And our dear Grace here, had worked for an entire week, day and night if I may add...” He giggled. “In refuting everything he had published.”

 

_She did what ?_

 

The professor laughed for a little while.

 

“Of course I’ve helped her in her research, I’ve given her the names she should contact, gave her articles she should study. “

 

Grace discreetly rolled her eyes, obviously he had not helped as much as he thought.

 

_Is that what the correspondences were all about ?_

 

“... everyone in _Runes Periodical_ had been captivated by it, it will be published tomorrow…”

 

_Is that why she had spent her entire week writing ? For this article ?_

 

“... and that’s what I told her ! ...”

 

_It still does not explain everything. And why would she write this article ?_

 

“... That is why she wrote this article. Marvelous.”

 

_I probably should have listened._

 

“... Marvelous ! To finish, I am extremely proud to be counting Grace as a new member of my dinner list. I look forward to having you for the special Christmas Party.”

 

He just realised what the professor had said. And Grace looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.  

 

_Well, you have done it Hortense. I knew you did not give up._

 

_You have tried everything to get in. But apparently you figured out that what Slughorn likes above everything is a celebrity._

 

_Not one that is ephemeral, like you used to be at the beginning of the summer._

 

_And you have become a celebrity Hortense. Well played._

 

Everyone in the class applauded and she looked proud.

 

_But there is still one question left :  why did you want to get in the club ?_

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

30.11.1942

 

 _ Step 5 _ _: Done._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ! So apparently now we take a month to upload a new chapter... 
> 
> We are going to try to upload sooner next time ! So we're really sorry for the delay !! 
> 
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> -DDM's Managers


	8. YOUR MAJESTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought. 
> 
> Stranded in a era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics  
> Big line : New POV  
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> "Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me."  
> And he kills her. 
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> This chapter is entirely based on the chess game : “The Game of the Century” between Bobby Fisher and Donald Byrne (1956).  
> We have analyzed every move and if you want to check at the same time as you read there are several videos on Youtube.  
> It took us quite some time to understand what we could imply with every move. 
> 
> We would like to thank Jamie (Ara’s chess teacher in primary school), without him she would have not had this idea.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Song : Your Majesty by Lorne Balfe

16.12.1942

 

“Black or white ?” Tom asked.

“Black suits you better.” She answered.

 

They were facing each other, across a wooden table in their common room. It was just after dinner, and the students were mainly gathered in front of the fireplace, leaving Tom and Hermione by themselves at the back of the room.

 

They stayed silent for a little while, glaring at each other. Both of their minds were racing, trying to figure out how it will play out. Then, Hermione took one of her white horsemen, made it jump above the pawn then slid it to the left at the same time as she spoke up: “Knight to F3”.

 

“Starting with a knight ?” Tom smirked. “I would have thought you would have started with a pawn. Knight to F6.” His pale fingers moved the piece.

“Pawn to C4.”

 

Tom was staring at the board game, silent. “Pawn to G6.”

“Knight to C3.” She moved her other rider onto the black square.

“Bishop to G7.”

They were surrounded by a peaceful silence. Only the sound of the pieces on the classic chess board game and their announcements could be heard.

 

“Pawn to D4.” Hermione said.

 

She glanced at Tom’s side. She briefly analyzed his pieces and knew immediately his next move.

 

“Kingside castling.” He declared.

He interchanged his King with his left castle, securing like that his most important piece.

 

_You’re not even surprised Hermione._

_The first thing he does is protecting his King._

_Tom, for the first four moves, you’ve been preparing this one._

_You’re not paying the game. You’re just afraid of losing._

 

She rose her head and saw him already looking at her. He nodded.

 

_So it begins._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

16.12.1942

 

After he nodded at her, she took one of her Bishops and shifted it to F4.

He responded by moving his Pawn forward to D5.

 

“Have you already finished the essay on animagi ?” He casually asked.

“Already given it to Dumbledore.”

 

She took her Queen between three fingers, gently raised it above the other pieces of the game, as though it was the most delicate item, and placed it two squares forward diagonally, on B3.

 

_Already using your Queen ?_

 

“How come you do not like him ?” At the same time as he asked the question, his Pawn on D4 captured hers on C4.

There was no subtlety, whether it was on his move or on his question.

 

She bit the inside of her right cheek, apparently, she was not taking the blow well. She stayed still for a second, analyzing the game in front of her eyes.

Once again, she took her Queen, brought it closer to his Pawn, the one on C4, and swapped the two pieces, taking away one of his own.

 

“How come you don’t like him ?”

 

He didn’t know if she had done it strategically or just by retaliation. Yet, Tom could only appreciate the beauty of what she had done.

 

He took his time to move one of his Pawn to C6. Once the piece down, he looked at her.

“He never seemed to like me.” He finally answered.

 

She rose her head. She appeared surprised.

 

_She hesitates. Why ?_

 

Tom was focused on observing her.

The way her eyes wandered from one piece to another, wondering what would be the consequences of each move.

The way her right hand shifted above the items, without touching them.

The way her breath quickened when she was about to touch one.

 

Enough with hesitation, she took her Pawn and moved it to E4.

Still in silence, he played his Knight to D7.

 

The noises they could hear at the beginning of their chess contest were slowly fading away, not that the room was emptying itself, but because the only thing that mattered at this moment, for the both of them, was winning this game.

 

They were not looking at each other. Their gazes were set on the pieces. She shifted her left rook and slid it to the right until it settled on D1.

It was his turn. He analyzed, once again. He lead the same Knight he used the round before to B6, but before he could put it down, she spoke up.

 

“Because he does nothing.” She simply said.

 

Tom was taken aback. He stopped, and stared at her.

“He is the only who could do something, and yet he just lets people getting killed.” Grace continued.

 

He acknowledged her response by just putting his Knight down.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

16.12.1942

 

“You have yet to congratulate me.” Hermione said while putting her Queen on C5.

 

He took one of his Bishop in his left hand, frowned his eyebrow and played with the piece. It took a second before he decided on a square to settle his item on.

“Congratulate you on what ?” He answered.

“Are there that many things I’ve done you can congratulate me on, Riddle ?”

 

She had not played yet but she knew she would take her Bishop to G5. She just liked playing with him, as he liked playing with her.

 

_You should definitely thank Ron for your chess skills._

 

He understood that she would not play until he gave her an answer. He snorted.

 

“Do you want someone else to inflate your ego Hortense ? Slughorn had already praised you enough, hadn’t he ? After all, that is why you have done it. Marvelous.” Tom mocked.

“Was I that transparent ?” She played her move.

 

They both smiled and he moved his Knight to A4.

 

_A knight on the rim is grim._

 

“Congratulations.” He started.

She slid her Queen across the board onto A3.

“But, if you wanted to go that bad to the Slug Club I could have taken you to the Christmas dinner.” He finished while capturing her Knight with his own on C3.

 

She swapped places between his Knight on C3 with her pawn. “If I wanted to do it the easy way, I would have asked Pollux to take me there. After all he is a much better company.”

 

Their eyes met. With each move they were taunting each other.

 

“You could have.” Tom said. “Be careful however, do not let your guard down too soon.”

 

His knight took her pawn on E4. By taking her pawn, he opened the way for her defeat. Her king was standing, alone, without any protection, and Tom was eager to see it abdicate.

 

_Don’t be naive Tom. You would never let your guard down, Hermione. Ever._

 

The candles, suspended on the ceiling, illuminated the chess board. They still had the same number of pieces.

Hers, white and bright, were scattered on the board, trying to get to him from everywhere.

His, black and dark, were centered around his King.

 

He was focused on preserving the royalty whereas she was concentrated on keeping all of her pieces.

 

_Funny how the way one plays chess reflects perfectly one’s personality._

 

She captured his pawn on E7 with her bishop. The white cleric was standing diagonally to his Queen. Hermione just gave Tom a bait. He had two solutions.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

16.12.1942

 

_I have two choices._

 

His eyes were staring at the board game. He visualized the possible outcomes.

 

_If I take your bait Hortense, I would capture your Bishop, make you lose one piece, but I would also be in the line of sight of your own Queen._

_If I do not take your bait Hortense, I leave your bishop near my King but move my Queen to a safe place._

 

His eyes were staring at Grace. He visualized the possible outcomes.

 

_If I take you bait Hortense, I would listen to every word you say, believe every lie, but I would also be another pawn to you._

_If I do not take your bait Hortense, I would leave to your plan but I would keep in mind to figure out something to do about you later._

 

Tom chose the latter. “Queen to be B6”. Grace gave him a dark smile, understanding perfectly what his last move meant.

 

She answered by moving her bishop to C4 leaving, this way, her King alone with her rooks.

Tom dangerously placed his only Knight to her side of the board, by swapping her pawn on C3 by his horseman. He enjoyed taking her pieces, one by one by hand, and putting them right next to his right elbow. It was like removing her defense bit by bit in order to get closer to her secret.

 

She made her other bishop, the one still standing next to his king, slide to C5.

 

_Why did she do that ?_

 

He focused on the game, frowning his brows a little, analyzing every move she ever made since the beginning of it. She had just given him a perfect opportunity to Check her. He smirked.

 

“Where are you every Wednesday night and Friday afternoon before potion ?” He solemnly asked. “Check.” He added while moving his rook one square right to E8, facing directly her King.

 

She casually moved her king to the left, to F1, where she knew it would be safe. “I don’t ask you where you and the lads go once a week for an hour don’t I ?” She said, raising her head to meet his gaze, a crooked smile on her lips.

 

_Well, look at that._

_If I knew you were playing the same game all along, we would not have lost that much time._

 

From that moment on, an understanding settled between them. One that had not been said out loud, or been heard by the others in the room. An understanding allowing them to ask a question if their last move was satisfactory enough.

 

Tom shifted his other bishop to E6. She had not stopped staring at him. And without even moving her eyes a centimeter, she took her bishop and killed his Queen.

Tom stiffened his jaw but stayed calm. She had taken his second most important piece. Yet, he smirked : the game keeps going without a Queen, but never without a King.

 

“But I could ask you.” She added. Her gaze fell back to the table.

 

Then, the game sped up. The windmill began.

 

He moved his Bishop to C4, capturing hers. Check. “Why don’t you ask more questions ?”

She shifted her King to G1, to be safe.

He moved his Knight to E2. Check. “Why being friends with the lads is so important to you ?”

She shifted her King to F1, to be safe.

He moved his Knight to D4. Check. “Why did you need to get into the Slug Club so badly ?”

She shifted her King to G1, to be safe.

He moved his Knight to E2. Check. “Why are you at Hogwarts ?”

She shifted her King to F1, to be safe.

He moved his Knight to C3. Check. “How did you get into Hogwarts in the first place ?”

She shifted her King to G1, to be safe.

 

_We are getting nowhere._

 

He moved his Pawn to B6, capturing her Bishop.

He took a good look at her. She seemed calm. Tom wondered if she was putting on an act or if she was truly serene.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

16.12.1942

 

The silence settled again. Two rounds passed.

 

She moved her Queen to B4, he moved his Rook to A4.

She moved her Queen to B6, capturing his Pawn. He moved his Knight to D1, capturing her rook.

 

Tom had just gained a rook, two bishops and a pawn for his sacrificed queen, leaving him ahead of one minor piece. It was an easily winning advantage in master play. Hermione’s queen, on the other hand, was outmatched by Riddle’s pieces, which dominated the board.

 

Tom and Hermione didn’t look at each other during those four moves. They kept their eyes on the board and by extension on the other player’s hands.

They were so invested in the game, that they had not realized they were the only two left in the common room until one of the dormitory doors slammed loudly.

At the same time they rose their heads. The fire was almost put out. Hermione quickly glance at the mural clock : 9:50PM.

 

“Aren’t you going to tell me off about the curfew Riddle ?” Hermione mocked.

 

Tom snorted. Quite unattractively.

 

« And what for ? So I could give you a detention and it would be taken away like the last one ? » He said.

« Why not ? It was quite entertaining, last time, seeing Slughorn undermine your prefect authority. »

 

Tom saw red, but he tried not to show it.

 

_He’s too easy to rile up._

 

Hermione smiled lightly and moved her pawn to H3. Tom smirked lightly and moved his rook to A2, eating her pawn.

Of all his pieces and pawns were defended, leaving Hermione’s Queen with nothing to do.

 

She decided on playing her King to H2. As for Tom, he captured, again, one of her pawns on F2.

 

There were only a few pieces left. She gently pushed her rook, resting on H1 to E1, now facing his rook. It was almost too easy for him to move his castle to take away hers.

 

 

“Do you know the three principles in chess Riddle ?” She asked.

 

They were both aware that he knew them.

 

“First, you need to have the control of the board’s center. You need to know where the most important pieces are, what they can do and most importantly what they are able to do for the King.” She kept going.

 

Tom did not need a translator to understand the analogy she was beginning to make. The board’s center clearly represented the board of professors at Hogwarts.

 

“The second rule is development. You need to get your Knights and Bishops out, and connect your Rooks. All those pieces need to be interconnected one way or another, and no one in the white army must come in between them.” She looked at him, a playful glint in her eyes.

 

The second rule represented the lads. Tom’s right hand started to fist his leather chair, from anger.

 

“And last but not least, you need to keep your King safe.” She stopped for a second and moved her Queen to D8, leaving the white monarch facing directly his black ruler. “Check Riddle.”

 

_Well Riddle, you’re definitely not safe._

 

“And in order to keep your King safe” Tom replied, “you must be willing to make sacrifices.” He put his bishop between her Queen and his King.

 

Hermione just got the confirmation, once again, that 1942 Tom was indeed the younger version of Voldemort. While Tom was ready to sacrifice one of his most important players, Hermione couldn’t resign herself to destroy its life like that. So she backed down, she didn’t take his bait and settle on capturing his Rook with her Knight on E1.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

16.12.1942

 

Tom was sitting straight in his chair. His right hand, was simply placed on the armrest, his left hand, was fidgeting above the chess pieces.

They were both looking at each other, she had a small smile on her lips just after she captured his Rook, whereas Tom was impassible.

 

_You think you are so smart Hortense._

_You think you can outplay me Hortense._

_But this is my playground._

 

He lowered his gaze to examine his game. After a couple of minute of consideration, Tom leaned down a bit in his chair. His right hand was now resting on the table, playing with the pieces she had lost, his left was moving steadily over his Bishop. He felt extremely satisfied with what was about to come.

 

He responded to her move by placing his Bishop on D5.

Tom saw Grace moving her Knight to F3 while he took his own with his left hand.

 

“You have played chess before. It is quite obvious that you know your way around the board, and the strategic one’s could use.” He said while shifting the piece to E4. “You are good, I may not say otherwise.”

 

While Tom talked, Grace kept playing, she had just pushed her Queen to B8.

“But you are not good enough.” He concluded. He put down one of his Pawn on B5, and the loud noise of the piece hitting the marble board echoed in the empty room.

 

She stayed focus on the game and moved her Pawn forward H4.

“You think you can outplay any opponent, that you can predict every move he might play and every thought he might have.” He played his pawn to H5.

She had not yet risen her gaze. She grabbed, with her right hand, only Knight to E5.

 

“You assume that your game is smart enough to fool your adversary. That he will fall for your baits.” He responded to her move by shifting his King to G7. “You lure him, giving him an easy solution while preparing the deadly move that might lead to the downfall of his own monarchy.”

 

She carried her King to F1.

This time she looked at him. Yet, he was not looking at her. He made his assumptions while staring at the board in front of him a slight smirk on his lips, but not perceptible by Grace. His attitude at this moment reflected his game : confident, playful and malignant. He met her gaze.

 

“Stop me if I am wrong Hortense.” He moved his Knight to G3. Check.

She shifted her King to E1, to be safe.

“You know from this moment on, that you will not win this game.” He moved his Bishop to B4. Check.

She shifted her King to D1, to be safe.

“You think however that you have played well and put me in difficulty more than once. You think you have found an enemy that attain your level of cunning and deceit.” He moved his Bishop to B3. Check.

She shifted her King to C1, to be safe.

“Yet, he ruled the game when you thought you were in control.” He moved his Knight to E2. Check.

She shifted her King to B1, to be safe.

“And here you are, losing the game you were so sure to understand.” He moved his Knight to C3. Check.

She shifted her King to C1, to be safe.

 

He smiled. Not the usual smirk he often seemed to show, but a real malicious smile was printed on his face. He had both of his elbows on the wooden table and his hands joined. He stayed like that for only a second then leaned back into his chair, resting his arms the armrests.

 

None of them had declared their move since the first few rounds of the game.

 

“Rook to C2.” He announced and without being touched, the rook moved forward the King. It stops in front of the white ruler and destroyed it to pieces. “Checkmate.”

 

This game had been a wizarding one all along. He had played along with her muggle way, thinking that at first it was to destabilize him. She thought maybe he would feel confused, not knowing that he had been raised in a muggle environment.  But he figured it was not a strategy, she had instinctively played the muggle way. “Interesting” he had thought.

 

“Once again Hortense, you have played good, but not good enough.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

16.12.1942

 

She was watching the board.

 

Her King. Her poor King reduced to ruins, scattered to the feet of his enemies, of his Enemy. The King, the man, the savior, the best friend.

 

_Harry_

 

Then the Queen, alone, lost and homesick. Keeping the face of pride in front of the darkness, but as much as shattered inside as the outside of her King.

 

_You, Hermione_

 

Her horseman was facing her. The soldier she knew would never leave. Bravery and courage filling his veins as much as love and friendship filled his heart.

 

_Ron_

 

At least, she still had two Pawns. The two she knew she would lure, she would use, without any regrets or remorse.

 

_Slughorn and Dumbledore_

 

She now looked at his army.

 

His rook, the one he used to protect him, was surrounded by the pieces of her King. Raising from the ashes of the fallen monarch, the rook took the appearance of one of her worst memory.

 

_Dolohov_

 

The Knight, represented by the beauty of the equine, taunted the loss of her ruler.

 

_Malfoy_

 

She could imagine the laughs of the two Bishops. Like two friends winning the game of the century.

 

_Rosier and Lestrange_

 

And the Pawns, used and manipulated, were still oblivious to their conditions. The Third Estate was pleased by the win, not knowing that they could have as well died that their King would have not batted an eye.

 

_Avery, Mulciber, Nott, Slughorn, Dippet_

 

Then his King. Proud and malicious, praising his own intelligence. The smug smile on his face, the way his body was relaxed by his victory and his head pleased by her silence.

 

 

 

Hermione rose from her seat and took her one of her Bishop from his stack of his wins. “But Riddle, it was only a game.”

 

* * *

 

16.12.1942

 

The lads had just left. Some of them, especially Edgard and Edmund had gone to bed, knackered by Quidditch, and others either had gone to the library or for a walk.

 

Hermione had just picked a book from the library and was sat in one of the couch in the common room. Even though she was bored, she couldn't focus on the novel.

Tom just leaned in the leather chair in diagonal to the couch. He put down the book he was holding and rose his head to meet her gaze.

 

“Fancying a game of chess Hortense ?” He casually asked.

 

She shrugged and it was her turn to set the book down.

 

Out of boredom, they began to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it ! 
> 
> After reading the comments, it appears that there are some confusions about the ages of the characters and we apologize for it :  
> \- Tom (and the lads) are 15 y/o  
> \- Hermione / Grace is 19/yo BUT looks like 15 y/o (due to the war, undernutrition…)  
> \- Pollux is 16 y/o (6th Year)  
> \- Cassandre is 14 y/o (4th Year)
> 
> Thank you guys again so much for your reviews and support. 
> 
> Love 
> 
> DDM’s Managers


	9. DEAR SOCIETY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> This chapter cost Ara 400€ (she went to visit me/Aga in Paris) so she really hopes you like it.   
> You can also Venmo her ahah
> 
> We strongly advise you to re-read chapter 5 ! 
> 
> \----  
> Song : Dear Society by Madison Beer

24.12.1942 : 

 

“The main thing is, you bunch of fuckers will not fight. No fucking fighting !” Tom declared angrily.

Tom got closer to Isodor who was laughing with Edmund. Tom pointed his finger at him and the blond boy rose his head and looked at Riddle. “No fighting.” The orphan repeated. “And no drinking, you are drunk enough already”. He shot an angry glare at Edmund and Edgard, already smashed.

A heavy silence settled between the lads. “Come on Tom, it’s a party !” Thorus argued.

Tom turned around to face him. “Come again ?” He asked.

“Well, it’s the Christmas dinner. It is supposed to be fun.”

“Well Thorus, at least you are right about something : it is the Christmas dinner. But if you think it is supposed to be fun then say that to all of your fathers who are trying to win a fucking election tonight.” Tom spun around. “Look at all of you, already drunk and making fools of yourselves.”

 

Tom took a deep breath. “No fighting, no drinking..” He turned around and faced the door to Slughorn’s enlarged apartment. He adjusted his tie. “And no swearing.”

 

He pushed the doors open. The flashing lights dazzled them for a couple of seconds. The loud music, played by the jazz band at the end of the room, reached their ears. With his left hand, he took one glass of champagne, drank it in one go, put the glass back on the silver tray and exhaled. “Let’s do it lads.”

The lads all dispersed. Tom stood straight.

 

* * *

24.12.1942 :

**_Champagne_ **

 

Tom made his way through the crowd, shook some hands, a fake smile plastered on his face.

 

This Christmas Party was different from the previous year. This year, there was something at stakes. The four candidates for Minister of Magic were present : Rosier, Malfoy, Lestrange and Tuft. That is why tonight was the perfect opportunity for Tom. The perfect opportunity to gather information.

“Tom ! Come over here boy !” He heard Slughorn said to him a couple of meters from here.

He approached a large circle and settled between Rupert Everett, a reporter at the Daily Prophet, and Cole Woodcroft. Next to the 6th Year Slytherin was Pollux, a glass of champagne in his hand. In front of the oldest Parkinson stood Grace. She wore an emerald tulle green dress. Her shoulders were bare and a diamond necklace laid on her cleavage.  Her usual wild hair was styled in a perfect bun at the crook of her neck.

 

“We were talking about Grace’s article.” Slughorn informed him.

“Do you need me to congratulate you ?” Tom took a sip of champagne. “Once again ?” He finished.

“I would never ask you that. “ Grace answered cheekily.

 

_As if…_

 

“And it is not the last piece she wrote !” Slughorn intervened. “You should have heard Dumbledore talking about her essay on Animagi. Marvelous !”

“Thank you professor.” She replied humbly.

“You know Rupert” The large professor addressed the only professional in this circle “I remember clearly when she came to me, scared not to be able to hand over the essay on time…”

 

_Here we go again._

 

Slughorn had always had the habit to take credit for helping students on whatever subjects they were working on. Even though the only thing he did was congratulate them once they had done all the work.

 

Tom looked at Grace, expecting her to look back to share a knowing glance. But she didn’t.

Grace and Pollux were already looking at each other, a small smile on their lips.

 

“If anyone needs to be congratulated it should be me.” Pollux intervened. “I taught her everything.”

Grace coughed, trying to mask her laughter.

“Come one kiddo, don’t be shy. Everyone needs help once in a while.” He grinned and took another glass of champagne from a moving tray.

 

Tom quickly scanned the room and saw the lads talking to several groups of people. He caught Dolohov’s gaze and nodded. He focused back on the conversation and found out the reporter got interested in Grace’s essay so Tom took the first opportunity to excuse himself and go mingle.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

24.12.1942 : 

 

“I’ve studied Chapster’s theory on Human Transfiguration and his angle on psychological transformation coming along the animagus process.” Hermione explained to Rupert.

 

The reporter seemed invested in what she was telling him. At one point he had taken out of his bag a little notebook. She had smiled internally.

 

“Excuse me sir.” She heard on her left. She turned her head and saw Milton along with who seemed to be his brother.

“Denniston ! Good to see you my boy, how are you doing ?” Slughorn asked the latter.

“Great Professor ! But actually I have to leave your party, I just got an owl from work and I am required over there.” Denniston Mulciber explained.

 

_Why does he look so familiar ? Have you seen him somewhere ?_

 

After a last handshake, the oldest Mulciber left the room. Milton came next to her, taking her away from Slughorn’s smelly breath.

 

“I would have loved for you to meet my brother Gracie.” The boy said to her.

“Another time.” She smiled.

 

In front of her, Pollux finished his drink, took two glasses of champagne, handed one to her. She kindly refused not having finished the one she had in her hand. He shrugged, downed one of the glass and took the other one in his left hand.

“Care to join me on the dancefloor ?” Pollux told her in a posh accent.

 She laughed and nodded.

They moved towards the dancing area and stared at each other for a couple of seconds, strangely silent.

 

“Why are we taking this shit so seriously ?” Pollux asked.

 

Without having the time to answer, Pollux finished his drink, took hers and put down them both on a moving tray. They stared at each other, still silent and unmoving. They didn’t need to talk. They only needed to dance. 1,2,3, they began.

They were carefree, like two twelve years old, silly dancing, and not giving a damn about what people could think. She laughed at his robot imitation. He smiled at her poor attempt at the Charleston. She put her hands on his shoulder and felt the soft texture of his tuxedo. She could smell his fancy cologne but with a hint of cold tobacco.

 

Once the song was over, they breathed heavily still grinning.

 

“I’ve never seen you laughed before.” Pollux told her out-of-breath.

“What ? I have laughed before !” Hermione replied, a hand on her heart, faking being hurt.

“Not like that. You should laugh more often. Another drink ?”

“I believed we were only allowed two glasses of champagne.”

 

Pollux was already heading towards the bar. He slightly turned around and said “I can’t hear you over the number of glasses I am taking.”

She smiled and followed him.

 

In a corner of the room, Hermione saw Cassandre and Walburga whispering. Since she arrived in May, she had always seen Walburga with a mask of coldness and Cassandre with one of haughtiness. Yet, at this very moment, they looked like two teenagers enjoying their night and exchanging sincere smiles of adoration.

 

_You would have never thought Walburga Black could look like that from the painting at Grimmauld Place._

 

She arrived at the bar.

“Grace !” Thorus smiled. He leaned and kissed her left cheek.

 

Thorus was wearing a dark grey suit with a black tie. His hair, usually a little disheveled, was slicked back. Hermione could see on his silver tie pin the blazon of the Nott family.

 

“Thorus, you look.. well… quite… _gentlemanly_ ” She smiled.

“And you, you look.. Well… quite… ladylike.” He mocked her.

 

She shoved him lightly and he smiled.

“I have someone I need to introduce you to.” Nott told her.

 

Hermione looked around her to find Pollux. The latter gave her a smile and told her that they would catch-up later. Thorus took her arm and they weaved in and out to reach his father. She could feel her glass in her right hand and the moldings on the crystal. She could hear different fragments of conversations : from the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain talking strategies with one of his fellow players to a Ministry officer complaining about his boss.

 

The party was alive, people were all chatting enthusiastically. This Christmas dinner had nothing to do with the one she had experienced in her own timeline. This party was actually fun.

 

Thorus and Hermione arrived in front of a circle of two gentlemen chatting over a drink. The oldest quickly looked at the two students and dismissed the man he was conversing with. The two Slytherin approached.

 

“Father, let me introduce to you Grace Hortense.” Thorus said.

“Miss Hortense, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 

Thorus’ father hand kissed her left hand.

“The pleasure is mine.” She answered.

* * *

 

 24.12.1942 :

**_Amuse-bouche 1 : Smoked Salmon Canapés_ **

 

Timotheus Nott was a fifty-seven years old businessman. He was well known among his fellow members of the Wizengamot for driving a hard bargain. He was as much respected as he was loaded : which meant a lot. He also praised himself for making the best decisions : the wife he chose, the education he gave his son, the business he made thrive and finally the candidate he supported.

 

So Hermione was not shocked when she saw from the corner of her eyes Wilhelmina Tuft approaching her.

“You must be Grace.” The witch smiled.

“I am.” Hermione replied, the lie easy on the tongue. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Tuft.”

“Please call me Wilhelmina. How do you like England ?” She asked while taking an amuse bouche.

“Wetter and colder than what I was used to in France but charming.”

“I am sincerely saddened by the conditions you ended up here, but I hope you find Hogwarts a home like everyone in this room did or does.”

 

They began talking, the four of them, about Hogwarts, England, Business and Elections. Professor Dumbledore joined them.

 

“Wilhelmina, I see you have met Ms. Hortense.” The redhead said.

“Albus we are all on first name basis here.” The witch smiled.

“We were talking about what was going on in France at the moment.” Timotheus explained. “The French Aurors just got intelligence that Grindelwald’s followers are meeting in cemeteries in Paris. They raided one an hour ago, _Le Père Lachaise_ , they arrested ten of them. Amazing work they are doing there.”

 

They were all waiting for a comment from the future headmaster but he only nodded his head, acknowledging Nott’s intervention.

 

“Have you been to France lately Albus ?” Tuft asked him.

“No.”

Hermione thought he answered a bit too quickly. She leaned slightly closer to him, expecting him to form a full sentence instead of one-syllable words.

 

_You are not fooling everybody Dumbledore._

 

“Well, I went to the French Ministry for business last month.” Dumbledore corrected.

“Oh is it regarding the new investments they are…” Timotheus started.

 

Hermione shared a look with Dumbledore. One that only lasted four seconds. In those four seconds an entire conversation took place. In those four seconds she knew he didn’t tell the entire truth. And in those four seconds, he knew he didn’t fool everyone.

 

Hermione excused herself and left the circle. She wandered across the room, sometimes chatting with some fellow Slytherin or taking one of the salmon canapés in her mouth. 

The smooth jazz set the perfect atmosphere, Hermione turned and faced the band. She simply enjoyed the sound of the saxophone mixed with the upright bass and the piano. The heavenly sound turned out to be less interesting than the whispered conversation taking place behind her.

 

“She is seventeen Corvus. Seventeen for fuck sakes.”  She heard Septimus Malfoy whisper.

“Don’t you think I know that ?” The other man replied.

 

_Who is he talking to ? What is he talking about ?_

 

“How could you let that happen ?” Malfoy Senior continued. “How long has it been going on ?”

A heavy silence settled.

“Who have you told ?” The other man asked.

“No one. Yet.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me Malfoy ? Is that what you are trying to do ?”

“You call it blackmail, I just call it leverage.”

“You are a fuck friend Septimus.”

“We are not fifteen anymore Corvus.” Glass clicking in the background made Malfoy stop talking. Hermione shot a quick glance and saw the tall blond man looking around him. “Just keep it in your pants.” Septimus barely whispered.

 

Hermione took a small step back in order to catch the following of the conversation.

“I don’t want to have to tell your wife about your mess.” He continued.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’ve hidden all of your shits from the Wizengamot and I won’t hesitate to dig them up.”

“You do that Corvus, I swear your wife won’t be the only one aware of your dirty secret.”

 

Behind her the two men left before she could try to identify this Corvus. She asked for a glass of water at the bar and looked at the dancing area.

 

“Not too disappointed ?”

She turned her head and saw Tom leaning on the bar next to her.

“I was expected something more… Slughornish ?” Hermione answered.

Tom pointed, with his chin, towards Slughorn entertaining a loud crowd. “More Slughornish than that ?”

Hermione chuckled. “I had a lot of expectations.” She gave him a last glance before leaving his side and heading towards Pollux at the opposite of the room.

 

On her way to her friend she got intercepted by a slightly bored Isodor, mouthing her to stay by his side. “Please don’t leave me alone with them.”

 

**_Amuse-bouche 2 : Tuna loin with black radish and passionfruit coulis_ **

 

“It hasn’t changed since 1436 Arcturus. It is not going to change now ! You know as well as I do that the concentration of fairy wings in potions is strictly regulated.” A tall forty-year-old man told to what looked like an older Orion Black.

“I know that but it doesn’t make it appropriate ! I have just read the article by Odette Smarckle on a new use of fairy wings and it opened my mind to new possible potions.” Arcturus answered.

 

Hermione looked at Isodor. “Why are we staying here ?” She mouthed him.

“I’ve been here for too long I can’t back down now.” He replied without making a noise. “And it’s becoming oddly captivating.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but snicker. The two adults finally acknowledged their presences.

“Isodor !” The older Orion Black said. “How long have you been here for ?”

“I just arrived.” Avery answered. “Twenty minutes ago.” He added whispering.

“Who’s your charming friend ?”

“Mr. Black, Mr. Rosier this is Grace Hortense.”

 

They both turned around and faced her.

“Arcturus Black.” The first one offered a handshake. “I have heard a lot about you.”

“Nicolas Rosier.” The other only added.

 

_Oh Nicolas Rosier. Your name will be recurrent in the papers._

 

“Mr. Rosier, I’ve heard a lot about you back in France. It is good to finally make your acquaintance.” Hermione said. She saw Rosier tensing up. “After all your bloodline is French before being British, isn’t it ?” She fake smiled.

 

Orion Black, who was standing next to his father with Galatis Carrow, yawned.

“You must know my son Ms. Hortense.” Arcturus quickly intervened in order to cover his son behaviour.

Orion nodded towards her. “Where is your intended ?” His father asked him.

“She went to the powder room father.” The boy answered.

 

Isodor coughed and leaned towards Hermione. “She went there an hour ago.” He whispered.

“And she was not alone.” Hermione added.

 

“Well Orion, go get her. A lady should never be left unintended.” Arcturus gave a pointed look at his son. The latter nodded, excused himself and went away.

 

A silence settled between the five of them. Galatis Carrow, even though she had known the two older men since her birth, seemed uneasy. Hermione looked at her and saw her searching for something to say in order to put an end to the silence.

 

“Have you heard about the arrestations ?” Galatis finally said.

 

Another silence. Rosier and Black were staring at Galatis, waiting for more information on the subject.

 

“Well Ms. Carrow, when you have information of that importance, there are three things you need to respect. First, your source, is it reliable ? Are you entirely sure about the veracity of your say intel ? Second, you need to be confident that you know everything on the subject in order not to make a fool of yourself. And finally, who are you telling the information to ? Are you using this statement to fill in the blanks or is there a real purpose behind it ?” Arcturus Black declared.

 

Galatis looked like she was going to burst into tears. Arcturus Black, on the other hand, felt like his little speech was nothing more than another lesson to give to a child.

 

“Out of the three Ms. Carrow, telling me this information was the only sensible thing you did tonight.” He finished.

 

Galatis discreetly squealed. “Well gentlemen, if you could excuse me I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

 

Arcturus stepped aside to let her leave the circle.

 

“If I may... “ Hermione started. The attention of the three men was focused on her. “I know from Lord Nott that the French Aurors arrested ten of Grindelwald’s men just over an hour ago after getting intelligence about the location of their secret meetings : _au cimetière du Père Lachaise_.”

“At the Père Lachaise cemetery ?” Arcturus parrotted.

“It not only a muggle cemetery. A lot of wizarding families have a vault over there.” Isodor added.

“The Rosier Family has one there, don’t you ?” Hermione asked innocently.

Nicolas Rosier sent her a deathly glare and quickly responded. “So does the Lestrange.”

 

_Yes but the Lestrange are not known for being Grindelwald’s supporters. Nicolas, do you get the slight difference ?_

 

“Ms Hortense, Mr Avery, Arcturus, have a good evening... I-I need to refill my glass.” After that statement Rosier left.

 

Hermione followed him with her gaze. “Lord Black it was a pleasure to meet you. I need to see someone.”

“Ms Hortense ?” Black stopped her in her way to leave. “The pleasure was mine.”

 

_Keep going like that Hermione._

 

She shyly smiled, nodded and as she was leaving she heard Isodor say “About the 1436 law…”

She chuckled.

 

_Oddly captivating indeed._

 

**_Amuse-bouche 3 : Pickled baby beets with herbed goat cheese and kumquats_ **

 

She stopped to talk to some of her professors. Slughorn was entertaining the circle she was in by retelling a match of Quidditch. While the large professor explained a “phenomenal” goal from the Russian Team, Hermione heard Cassandre’s voice not far.

 

She slightly turned around and saw the entire Parkinson family. The father, Haurus Parkinson, reprimanded his younger son, while the heir drank another glass.

“... and in front of the entire society ? How dare you embarrass me like that ?”

“Father they were just talking.” Pollux intervened.

“Son, you know as well as I do that it was not just talking.”

 

_Cassandre and Walburga ? Again ?_

 

“It is not as if anything could happen now.” Cassandre said.

His father leaned onto his younger son’s personal space. The features of his face were terrifying. Pollux put his hand on his father’s shoulder “Father, not here.”

“You are right son. At least my heir has some common sense. Learn something from your brother Cassandre, at least he knows how to behave in a social gathering.”

 

Cassandre barked out a laugh, as if he had just heard the most insane thing in his entire life.

“He knows how to behave ? Are you kidding me father ? Take a good look at him.”

 

Upon these words Cassandre Parkinson left in a hurry, jostling one of the guests who spilled some of his goblin’s bourbon on Pollux’ tuxedo.

 

Hermione realised that she was more focused on a conversation she was not a part of than the one she was supposed to participate in. She turned her head towards the circle of wizards she was in, and tried to catch up with what she had just missed.

 

“If you like Quidditch that much Horace, I just got tickets for the next match between Bulgaria and Ireland.”

 

_You know that voice Hermione._

 

“Thank you Corvus. It’s highly appreciated.” Her potions professor said.

“But Father I thought…” Edgard Lestrange started.

“Not right now.” Corvus Lestrange cut him.

 

_No fucking way._

 

Hermione felt quickly overwhelmed. There were too many information, too many people she needed to talk to. She just needed some fresh air or maybe a drink.

 

_Where is Aberforth when you need him ?_

 

She didn’t need to excuse herself as the people were chatting enthusiastically about the next Quidditch game. She headed towards the bar and asked for a glass of champagne. She took it in her right hand and her gaze came upon her Headmaster. Armando Dippet seemed already tired of his night. He settled next to her, took a good look at the glass in her hand and smiled. She blushed.

 

“Ms Hortense, we haven’t had the time to really talk since your arrival.”

“Headmaster Dippet.” She said uneasily due to the unauthorized alcohol in her hand.

“I won’t tell anyone Ms Hortense, you can drink it.” He chuckled. “I would ask you how your classes are, but I have only heard good things about you. After all, with your school record I was not expecting less of you.”

 

“Grace I can’t do it anymore” Isodor appeared next to her. “Headmaster Dippet ! I didn’t you see here. How are you doing on this fine night ?”

“Mr Avery, if only you could be interested in those kinds of party as much as you are in mischief.”

 

There was a second of silence before the headmaster kept going.

“I need to go back and shake some hands. Ms Hortense I hope it will not take another six months before we talk again. Mr Avery I will see you soon in detention I guess.”

 

Armando Dippet bowed his head and left. Isodor grabbed her wrist and took her outside. It felt good to breathe some fresh air. She just realized that the sound inside was tiring. The patio was filled with students. On the left side, she saw Pollux and Cole leaning against the wall, sharing a smoke. She smiled at Isodor and both of them went their own way. Avery joined the lads on the right and she approached the two Sixth Year.

 

“Hey Kiddo.” Pollux said.

“Still drinking ?” She smiled.

“It’s water.” He replied.

“Eau-de-vie” Cole coughed masking his words.

“There is still the word water in the name at least.” Hermione laughed.

 

They were, the three of them, leaning against the brick wall, enjoying the quietness. They could hear some of the other students talking in the background. She smelt the goblin’s bourbon coming off Pollux’s suit.

 

“Mate I am so glad we only have one those bloody Christmas party left. I feel like I have aged forty years in just two hours.” Cole declared.

“You’re preaching to the converted.” Pollux exhaled, smoke coming out of his mouth. “Too much politics and for what ? A bloody corner office. At least when my family was in charge there was not that much fuss.”

 

Dolohov turned around a few meters away. “Come on Pollux, not again.”

“What ? I am just saying that when Perseus Parkison was Minister there was not all that fuss”

“It was in 1726 mate ! You weren’t even born and you never met the _dude_.”

“Still, I guess it was not like that.”

 

Pollux and Cole laughed as if it was a private joke between the two of them.

 

“Are we talking about the same Perseus ? The one who attempted to pass a bill making it illegal to marry a Muggle and misread the public mood ? The one the wizarding community, tired of anti-Muggle sentiment and wanting peace, voted him out at the first opportunity ?” Hermione intervened.

“You are only focusing on the bad parts. It wasn’t like that.” Pollux smiled down at her.

“Shut up Pollux.” Cole and Dolohov said at the same time.

 

After that, both the lads and the Sixth Years began talking among themselves loudly. Hermione kept quiet and observed. She wouldn’t have noticed Tom got close to her if it was not for his cologne.

 

“Who are you betting on ?” He asked her.

 

She turned her head. The prefect was wearing an entirely black suit, from his costume to his shirt and tie. This outfit matched his eyes and his hair.

 

Hermione understood by the smirk on his face what he was talking about. She was not the only one “gambling” about who would end up Minister of Magic. Tom was as much involved as she was apparently.

 

“Only a blind person would make the wrong bet.” She replied.

 

He chuckled silently. He fixed his tie, ready to go back inside, but leaned a little. “By the way, it is true, _you should laugh more often_.”

 

She watched him go back inside, his words still resonating in her head and his smell still floating around her.

 

_He is everywhere._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

24.12.1942:

 

The first thing he noticed when he entered the large room was the loud noise. He put back the fake smile on his face and joined the crowd. Some handshakes, casual conversation, a few good words placed to the right people. Tom knew how it worked and he was good at it.

 

After a dozen of minutes he felt a little dizzy. He went to the bar and asked for a glass of water.

 

“Tom.”

 

He tensed at the recognition of the voice, smiled then turned around.

“Professor Dumbledore.” He replied.

“We could call this party a success, wouldn’t we ?”

“Professor Slughorn really outdid himself this year.”

“You should enjoy your night Tom.”

 

The implications of those words were clear for Tom.

 

“So should you Professor.”

 

They exchanged a look.

 

_You are not fooling everyone._

 

The professor nodded and left.

 

_I really need a drink._

 

* * *

24.12.1942:

 

**_Amuse-bouche 4 : Parmesan biscuit with avocado chantilly toast_ **

 

“Afterall it was my idea to create a fund with Rosier and Lestrange for the new aisle at St Mungo's.” Tom heard Malfoy praise himself.

 

_Of course it was.._

_It is not as if I have not told your sons that you all needed to do something together in order to appear in the newspaper instead of Tuft._

_It is not as if I have not told your sons that St Mungo’s would benefit from a donation to build a new aisle._

 

“It is fine to talk about our foreign policies but if we don’t focus our strengths on our own society and what we could do to enhance our citizen’s daily life, are we really doing the right thing ?” Septimus kept going.

 

This conversation had begun with Septimus Malfoy, some members of the Ministry, Aurelian Greengrass, Antonin Dolohov Senior, Thorus, Isodor and Tom. Lord Malfoy was clearly trying to undermine Tuft’s policies.

 

“Tuft is so sure England will suffer the same fate as France that she is not focused enough on the rest. Maybe we should create a department dedicated to futile matters and she could be the head of it.”

 

Tom tried not to roll his eyes at the pathetic statement Abraxas’ father just made.

The Greengrass had always been fervent supporters of the Malfoys so Tom was not even surprised when Aurelian Greengrass nodded enthusiastically at the words coming out of his friend’s mouth.

 

In the distance Tom noticed Galbanda Greengrass, Belone McNair and Grace chatting. At the sight of his own daughter, Aurelian call out her name and asked the girls to join them. The circle extended.

“Gentleman you remember my daughter Galbanda and her friend Belone Mcnair, Desdal’s daughter.” He turned towards Grace. “And you must be Ms Hortense.”

 

The brunette nodded.

 

Malfoy Senior looked at Galbanda and declared “I was just telling your father Tuft’s ideas were not sufficient.”

A somber laugh escaped Antonin’s father. The crowd turned to him. “Septimus, aren’t you just trying to undermine Tuft’s authority because you know that more than half of the Wizengamot is supporting her ?”

“The Wizengamot has nothing to do with that.” The blond answered sharply.

“My bad !” He fake apologised. “I actually wanted to talk about the mess you’re implicated in at the Wizengamot.”

 

_He is less subtle than I thought._

 

Tom saw that Aurelian Greengrass was trying to find a way to change the subject. His gaze fell on Grace. Tom knew for sure he was going to ask her about the attacks back in France.

 

_Is there a better way to change a subject than throwing the bone at someone else ?_

 

Isodor and Thorus chose that moment to begin laughing. Tom shot them a deathly glance but Greengrass caught that, stared at him and talked.

“Tom you are living in muggle London aren’t you ?”

 

Tom tensed, did not answer and waited for the rest to come.

 

“Isn’t it too difficult with the war going over there ? What about rationing…”

 

From this moment on, the young generation saw the tension in Tom’s body. His face was losing his smile and his eyes became darker.

 

“Isn’t it too harsh on a young boy like yourself ? And the bombings are they…”

 

Greengrass’ monologue was interrupted by a loud crashing noise. Everyone stopped and looked at Grace. She had just dropped her glass on the ground.

“I am terribly sorry. I must be tipsier than I thought ... Silly me.” She explained visibly ashamed.

 

_Fucking Hortense. Thank you._

 

Slughorn arrived and broke the silence that just settled. “Excuse me, may I borrow Grace and Tom for a moment ?”

 

The two students nodded at the guests and followed their professors into the crowd.

 

They entered a new circle composed of Professor Merrythought, Headmaster Dippet, two academicians from Ilvermorny and some Ministry officials.

“Those are the two students I was talking to you about Professor Beadles.” Slughorn said.

 

**_French wine_ **

 

Tom and Grace greeted the adults and altogether began talking about their classes and their aspirations for their futures.

 

“Horace, I have always heard about your famous Christmas gathering but I must say that I was not expecting something so spectacular.” Professor Beadles explained above the jazz music. She turned towards the two students. “Is it always like that ?” She asked them.

“Well Grace cannot attest for that it is only her first dinner after all. But I assure you that it is always impressive.” Tom smiled.

 

_You may be Slughorn’s new shiny toy, but I will always be his favorite._

 

People kept talking after that. Tom turned towards Grace and smirked. He also noticed that she took his bait.

 

“And what are you studying in potions at the moment ?” A ministry official asked Grace.

“We are currently working on altering some beginners potions.” She answered.

“It seems quite advanced for a fifth-years.”

“Actually it is not what I am teaching in my conventional class…” Slughorn intervened.

 

_Conventional class ?_

 

“... you see Grace here is quite the prodigy in Potions.”

“Professor…” Grace humbly tried to stop him.

“Aren’t you taking private lessons with Professor Slughorn ?” Merrythought asked the French girl.

 

_Come again ?_

 

“Every Wednesday night and Friday before conventional class.” Slughorn proudly announced.

 

_You must be kidding me. Is this where she disappeared for four months ? Only for private classes ?_

 

He rose his head and looked directly at her. She had a smug smile on her face that screamed “I played you.”

Tom took a glass of red wine and downed it.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

24.12.1942:

 

Hermione had just finished an interesting conversation with Nott senior and his son. She came across the dancing area to go outside, to breathe some fresh air. However she spotted on her left, Nicolas Rosier opening an envelope, colors leaving is face.

 

Hermione got closer but got interrupted by Pollux. “Horteeense ! Come party with the real folks !”

“Pollux I don’t have time right now.” She tried to bypass him. He stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

“Come on we’ve barely talked.”

“Later Pollux ! I just told you I can’t right now.”

“You don’t need to make any connexions. After all I am the heir of the prestigious Parkinson family !” He joked trying to hide his disdain for what he had just said.

“Go drink a glass of water and I will find you later.”

 

Hermione didn’t wait for his answer that she was already getting closer to Nicolas Rosier. She watched him talking with Antonin Dolohov Senior. She approached the bar and took a verrine.

 

**_Verrine : Tuna and beets crumble_ **

 

Nicolas hastened to rip apart the picture he had in his hand. Hermione just got the time to catch a sight of it. On the wizard photography she saw Nicolas stepping out of the door wearing dress robes with the famous symbol. The same one Xenophilius Lovegood wore at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Grindelwald trademark. The picture was another proof of his involvement in the movement.

 

Edmund’s father hissed. “Who sent me this ?” He asked Dolohov.

“I told you it was a bad idea to be involved in this. Who else knows ?”

“It is a secret. Only five people know.”

“Five people ? It is not a secret anymore, it is information.”

 

Nicolas Rosier rose his head and came upon Hermione’s eyes. She quickly lowered her gaze.

 

_Fuck._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

24.12.1942:

 

Tom was bored. The conversation, taking place before his eyes, was almost putting him to sleep. His eyes wandered around the room.

 

He saw from afar Pollux and Grace talking. She seemed in a hurry and annoyed with him whereas Pollux was joyful and a little pissed. He followed Grace with his gaze as she moved towards the bar and took a verrine. She turned her head, so did he.

 

He noticed Nicolas Rosier and Dolohov senior talking vehemently. The first one had the remains of what seemed to be a paper in his hand. The look on his face said it all : it was important information.

 

The two men exchanged a few words before Rosier lifted his head, a mixture of anger and determination on his face. Tom searched for Rosier’s target of hatred : Grace.

 

The head of the Rosier family walked towards her at a determined pace. Grace, on the other hand, was scared. For the first, Tom saw pure fear in her eyes. Tom took a step forward, not sure what to do. Then he saw Rosier grab Grace’s wrist violently. At this, Tom kept walking towards them. He tried to cross the ocean of people separating him from them.

 

Still holding vehemently Grace’s wrist, Tom saw Rosier talking. Tom tried to move faster.

 

**_Fruit punch_ **

 

“... _c’est pour le plus grand bien n’est-ce pas ?”_ Grace whispered loudly.

“ _Tu n’es qu’une gamine qui s’est retrouvée au milieu d’une guerre d’adultes. Ca ne te concerne pas.”_ Rosier spat back.

 

Grace scoffed. “ _Comment osez-vous dire que ça ne me concerne pas, alors que la seule chose que vous ayez faite jusqu'à présent a été de vous asseoir derrière un bureau. »_

 

Even though Tom did not understand a word that had just been said, he knew that this conversation was not going to end well.

Tom saw from the corner of his eyes Rosier reaching for his wand. He knew he needed to intervene. He snatched a glass of punch and joined them.

 

“Grace !” Tom said theatrically. He knew he did not sound natural. “I have been looking everywhere for you. I got you a glass of punch.” He gave her the glass.

“Why ?” She genuinely asked, still pretty shocked about what had just happened.

 

Tom noticed that Rosier was not the only one who had reached for his wand. Grace lowered her hand from her holster and took the glass he just offered. Rosier left abruptly, leaving the two Slytherin alone.

 

“Why the fuck did you do that ?” Grace barked.

“What the fuck did _you_ do ?” He spat back.

 

Tom noticed that the people around them started staring. He took Grace’s wrist and heard her hiss from the pain. He quickly let go of her hand and stared at the bruises Rosier had left. He said nothing.

 

“It doesn’t concern you Riddle.” Grace whispered.

“Did you really think I would have let you ruin the night by starting a _duel_? You are not the only one with an agenda.” He shot at her.

 

They stayed silent, staring at one another. They were secluded in an almost deserted area. The guests were mainly gathered around the bar and the dancing area. From where they were, they could talk without anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. Apparently, they were not the only who thought this spot was perfect for not being overheard.

 

“Maybe we could just leave.” Grace and Tom heard.

 

They turned their head at the same time and saw, in a dark alcove, Cassandre and Walburga.

 

“We haven’t graduated yet.” Walburga chuckled.

“Who cares ?” Cassandre laughed. “We have money, we could flee the country, start something in a foreign one just the two of us.”

“Let’s do this.” Walburga smiled.

“Let’s do this.” Cassandre repeated.

 

For a couple of seconds, Tom and Grace forgot entirely about what had just happened with Rosier.

“They are fools.” Tom declared.

“They are in love.” Grace said calmly.

“Isn’t that the same thing ?”

 

Tom shot a last glance at the two lovers and left.

 

* * *

 

**_Assortment of desserts_ **

 

Thirty minutes later Tom found himself talking to the lads sans Dolohov. He could finally relax a bit for a minute. He wondered where Antonin was, usually when he summoned the lads for a meeting he was the first one to show up.

 

_Where is he ?_

 

Tom saw from afar Antonin talking to his father.

“Excuse me lads.” He said. “Abraxas I will need to talk to you later about some french translation.”

 

He approached the Dolohovs but stopped in his track when he caught a glimpse of their conversation.

“Lower your voice.” His father ordered Antonin. “Did you do what I asked of you ?”

“I have heard some interesting conversations.”

“And ?”

“You were right father. The Malfoys are in a real mess with the Wizengamot.”

 

_Well I see you are not working exclusively for me Dolohov._

 

“Can you get your hands on names son ?”

“I will father.”

 

Tom saw father and son walking away from each other. As they separated the prefect caught sight of a particular shade of green : emerald.

 

_Why is she alone ? It is not the first time tonight. Why would someone, with an agenda, choose to be alone in an important gathering ?_

 

He chose to join her. “Hortense.” He simply said. He felt as if he just interrupted something.

“Can’t you just leave me alone for one second Riddle ?”

“Why ? Do you have something to hide?”

“Well the last time you thought I was hiding something, it turned out I just had private classes with a professor.” He heard the smirk in her voice.

“Why did you keep it a secret ?”

“That’s the funny thing Riddle, it never was a secret. You just assumed as much and I just went along with it.” She mocked him.

 

They stood still for a couple of more seconds. “Well Riddle, I must leave you. As you said, I _do_ have an agenda tonight.”

She left.

 

_What was she doing there ?_

 

He took a good look around him and noticed that a painting was staring at him.

 

_She looked like I interrupted her._

 

He stared at the painting, he understood, he smirked.

“Good evening Sir, may I ?” Tom said.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

24.12.1942:

**_After-dinner liqueur_ **

“How long has it been ?” Isodor asked quietly Milton.

“4 hours I think.” The small boy answered.

“It is not a dinner anymore, it is a fucking sleepover.”

 

At the swear word, Tom shoved him a little whereas Hermione chuckled.

 

_It’s been four hours Hermione. You have met every candidate. They are all gathered here. Let’s see out this turns out._

 

Slughorn, apparently sick of the political talk, left the conversation and was replaced by Dumbledore. The circle was composed of all the important people : the lads, some of their fathers, Tuft, Dumbledore, Hermione and Tom.

 

Between two drags of this cigar, Corvus Lestrange exposed his view on the actual state of France. “After all, France is not as destroyed as they want us to believe in the tabloids.”

“Have you been there ? I have, and I can tell you that it is as much destroyed as the press tells.” Tuft intervened. “Even more.”

“They only suffered five or six attacks.” Rosier said.

“Only five or six ?” Tuft repeated. “Are you hearing the words coming out of your mouth ? Would you say the same thing if it was England instead of France ?”

 

Septimus Malfoy was ready to spat back at Tuft when a photographer interrupted the heated argument. “Picture for the Daily Prophet ? Let’s do one with all the candidates then we will take one with everyone.”

 

The four wizards stepped forward and smiled. Their smiles were so fake that Hermione wondered if anyone could be fooled by them. They were tensed and eager to get done with it. She heard one of the reporters next to the photographer commenting “this would be perfect, let’s bring the children and professors.”

The others, whom she was a part of, approached and settled around the candidates.

When the first flash dazzled Hermione, she realised what it meant : she had never seen a picture of Grace Hortense in the 1990’s, she had never read anything about her. Yet, she had just written a rune’s article and just took a picture which will be the next cover of the Daily Prophet.

 

_How ?_

_What have you been thinking ? You weren’t careful enough Hermione. You need to sort this out._

_Does it mean you need to get rid of them ?_

 

The panic she felt rising in her chest quickly disappeared as Malfoy barked the argument he had been waiting to say before they all got interrupted.

“Why are you always bringing England in the matter ? It almost looks like you want to be attacked. You are playing with people’s fears so they will vote for you.” Malfoy spat.

“May I remind you that the prior minister of magic had been urged to resign because he didn’t take this threat seriously ?” Haurus Parkinson added.

 

“Afterall we have professor Dumbledore.” Desdal Macnair objected.

Everyone looked at the concerned. Hermione could not distinguish the questions shot at Dumbledore as they came from everywhere : parents, candidates, students.

 

“Listen everyone.” Dumbledore finally said. “Yes we do have to take the threat seriously. Why is he afraid of me ? I don’t know. Is he really afraid of me ? I don’t know. Should my presence keep him at bay it would only be for a short period of time. That is why we cannot not take this threat seriously.”

 

“And how do you want us to prepare ourselves for that ? It is not like the French want to divulge any intel regarding the said attacks !” Lestrange asserted.

“Well, if I may interrupt.” Tom announced. “You have intel right here.” He looked at her and smiled.

 

_What are you playing at Riddle ?_

 

“Yes Ms Hortense, do tell us.” Septimus Malfoy said.

“What do you want to know Lord Malfoy ?” She calmly answered.

“How could you not have known that they were going to attack Beauxbatons ?” Rosier cut her.

“That is the point of a surprise attack  Mr. Rosier, no one is aware it is going to happen” She sarcastically said.

“Why did you not leave the academy sooner ? I heard you had a portkey, right ? Why didn’t you use it before the massacre ?” Lestrange interrogated her.

“Well…”

“When you let the younger students leave the castle, why didn’t you leave ?” Rosier cut her.

“Some of us needed to stay behind to fight back.”

 

_This is not information they are looking for, they just want to discredit your story for their owns._

 

“You were able to get people out, why didn’t you let help in, then ?” Septimus Malfoy asked.

“W-we…” Hermione tried.

“Why did you leave alone ? You could have taken other people with your portkey.” Lestrange assumed.

“I-I…”

 

They were talking about France, she knew it, but she couldn’t help but think about her own departure, the real one. The guilt became stronger.

 

She could not talk. She felt her throat closing from the pressure they put on her shoulders. Her face turned pale and her palms became clammy. Hermione looked around her, desperately trying to find help. Every lad were running away from the stare. Tom was simply emotionless, waiting for her to respond, waiting for her to react. Dumbledore was gawking at her, suddenly interested in what she had to say. And for once, she had nothing to say.

 

“Would you say you could have done something more ?” Rosier pointedly asked.

“Could you have prevented it ?”Septimus added.

 

Her head began to spin.

 

“Would you have prevented it ?” Between all the questions that were thrown at her, she distinctively heard the whispered sentence coming out of Tom’s mouth.

 

After that, she only felt a hand on her shoulder, and someone softly excusing themselves before taking her away from the circle.

She rose her head and saw her transfiguration teacher guiding her away towards the bar. Once they arrived he ordered her a glass of water.

“I need something stronger.” She said more to herself than the bartender.

“Bourbon.” Dumbledore declared.

“Firewhiskey.” She rectified.

 

Dumbledore nodded his head and the barman poured her the drink. None of them talked. They simply looked in front of them and drank their beverages. Hermione knew that Dumbledore was waiting for her to say something.

 

“What do you want me to say ?” She simply asked.

“I don’t know. What do you want to tell me ?”

“It is not because you gave me a drink that I am going to spill all of my secrets Professor.”

 

She turned her head and saw Tom smirking from afar. Her guilt melted into anger. He thought he could do anything, throw anyone under the bus, even her. At that moment, she felt powerless. She saw him excusing himself and leaving the circle.

 

“Thanks for the drink.” She stated before rushing behind Tom into the crowd.

 

As she was about to join him, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Pollux. The alcohol he had been drinking all night gave him a crooked smile.  

 

_No. You don’t have time Hermione._

 

“No Pollux I really don’t have time.” The words came out harsher than she had intended.

“Just one drink !” He pointed the bar, losing his balance for a second.

“A drink ? Don’t you think you have drunk enough already ?” She spat.

“You’re no fun.” Pollux slurred. “Just like my brother.”

“Maybe you should listen to him for once. And go drink a glass of water for fuck sakes.”

 

She turned around again and joined Tom on the terrace. It seemed as if he was waiting for her. He had one elbow on the balustrade and his other hand held a glass of bourbon. She quickly looked around them to make sure no one was around.

 

She got close to him and smacked the drink out of his hand. The glass broke on the floor.

 

“Never do that again.” She threatened him.

“I do not know what you are talking about.” He mocked.

“You know exactly what I am talking about that. Don’t pull this shit on me again Riddle.

“We were only having a conversation. You are just overreacting.”

“What is the matter with you ?” She almost yelled. “This is not a game ! This is my life, my story to say, my credibility.”

“You see, that is the thing Hortense. Isn’t it only just a game after all ?”

 

He left his position and went by the door. He opened it. The music became louder. He stopped in his tracks. “Oh, I forgot.” He said. “Nice dress.” And he re-entered the room.

 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Hermione released an angry cry. She could hear her blood pulsing in her ears and her heart beating in her throat. She put her hands in her hair and pulled. She was about to reach the end of her tether.  

 

She knew she had to go back inside, so she tried to fix her hair and put on a smile. She knew she would not convince anyone yet she entered the room. She briefly scanned it. Hermione saw Milton eating a desert, Belone laughing with Galbanda, Cassandre and Walburga arguing in the back. Then, she noticed the bar and the boy spiking his drink. Spiking was not the right term, Pollux was actually pouring his entire flask in his punch. She saw red.

 

She approached him, grabbed him by the arm and lead them both outside. He drunkenly followed her in the deserted corridors until they reached an empty classroom.

 

“One thing !” She yelled, the scream resonating in the room. “I asked you to do just one thing and you are not even capable of doing that. What’s wrong with you ?”  Her voice breaking at the end.

 

Hermione could feel the sharp smell of alcohol coming out of her friend. She was expecting goblin’s bourbon to be the strongest smell because someone had spilled some on Pollux’s tuxedo. However, he was stinking firewhiskey.

 

“And I-I asked y-you one thing too.” He slurred.

“I told you I didn’t have the time.”

“And I told you I wanted to have fun tonight ! So if I want to get pissed I get pissed !” He yelled back. “I am Pollux fucking Parkinson.”

“And you think that it gives you the right to be an arsehole ?!”

“Who are you to talk ? You’re just some kid I’ve met a couple of months ago. Just fuck off Hortense.”

 

He reached for a cigarette in his jacket, tried to light it but struggled as he was too intoxicated.

 

“You know what ? Fuck you Pollux. I am done. I am _so_ done. ”

 

She felt anger pulsing through her entire body. Her breath was quick and uneven and her eyes were wet from the tears that would roll on her cheeks soon. She left him alone in the room and slammed the door behind her.

 

She couldn’t go back to the party, she wanted to go to her dormitories so she just kept walking, her gaze focused on nothing. She kept walking until she found herself in front of what she used to consider home. She wanted to get into her dormitories, even though those were not the right ones, she was exactly where she needed to be.

 

She looked at the Fat Lady in the painting and the woman smiled down at her. This made her finally cry.

 

“Sing for me please.” She laughed through the tears.

 

And the Fat Lady complied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the discussion between Nicolas Rosier and Grace: 
> 
> “... afterall it is for the greater good, isn’t it ?”  
> “You are only a kid who got caught in the middle of a grown-up’s war. This does not concern you."   
> “How dare you say that this doesn’t concern me ? The only thing you have done so far is sit behind a desk.”
> 
> Hope you guys liked it ! 
> 
> We have told you that chapter 5 may be useful later.   
> Thank you so much for all of your reviews, it is wonderful to read them.
> 
> Lots of love
> 
> -DDM's Managers


	10. A TEMPEST IN A TEACUP - PART I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> We are currently looking for a Beta, so if anyone is interested you can send us a mail at : agarariddle@gmail.com
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Song : A Tempest in a Teacup by Derek Webb

09.01.1943 : 

 

The teacup was chipped.

“No Albus.”

 

It was tiny, almost invisible.

“You have no say in this.”

 

But the cup was chipped.

“She is my student, my responsibility.”

 

Like a scar on porcelain skin.

“You will leave us alone.”

 

She skimmed the crack with her right thumb, unable to feel the porcelain cutting her skin. Numb. She felt numb.

She repeated the movement one more time. And this time, sensed the laceration on her finger. She removed her thumb from the teacup and examined it. A pearl of blood was ready to flow on her skin. She followed its movement, slowly rolling on the palm of her hand to reach her wrist.

The thin line of blood the pearl left behind, this blazing crimson red, stood out on the dirty dry maroon blood covering her hand. Her gaze focused on both of her hands. She felt the layer of old blood slightly cracking as she slowly moved her fingers. She took the teacup in her left hand and stared at it. The white porcelain was long gone and replaced by bloody fingerprints all over it.

 

She heard the loud steps of heavy shoes on the wooden floor, yet she did not steer her eyes away from the macabre sight of her hands. Then, the drag of a chair. She heard when as it flowed over each parquet board. She felt as if the movement was slow or maybe she had just been living in slow motion for the past couple of hours. A loud thud just in front of her made her head snap up. She saw professor Slughorn sitting is a massive leather chair. The same type as the one she was currently longing in.

 

“Grace ?”

She was looking at his face. He was young compared to the Slughorn she had first met in her own timeline, yet his features were tight. The image of the silly professor he always seemed to have was gone. His brows were furrowed, his lips were pursed and his eyes were heavy with concern.

 

“Grace ?” He repeated.

She finally acknowledged his presence.

 

“The teacup is broken.” She simply stated.

Slughorn opened his mouth to reply but quickly closed it. It appeared as if he was searching for the right words.

 

“It is Grace.”

Her eyes went back to the cup. She tried to get rid of the blood on it.

 

“Grace.”

She did not answer, too focused on making the blood disappear but only succeeding on smearing more on it.

 

“Grace?” He firmly said. “I need your attention.”

She rose her head once more.

“I need you to tell me everything you remember from what happened this afternoon.” Slughorn kept going. “What you are going to tell me is of utmost importance.”

 

“What do you want to know ?” Hermione asked.

“Start from the beginning.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943 : 

 

Hermione dropped her trunk on the floor of the 5th Year girls dormitory. She was tired from her journey back to Hogwarts. She hesitated on relaxing on her bed for a couple of minutes but she opted not to, afraid of falling asleep. She did not bother emptying her suitcase. She went down to the Slytherin common room.

“Ready ?” Isodor smiled at her. “Come on Grace, everyone is already at Hogsmeade.”

She reluctantly followed him down the corridors. Isodor was talking about how his Christmas holiday went. Hermione laughed at his anecdotes.

“... and I swear it wasn’t me !” He finished as she rose her eyes towards the blue sky.

 

They just arrived in the small wizard village. The cold January breeze made the fresh layer of snow fly all around the students, muffled in their warm coats. The sun was only illuminating the streets. Hermione put her hands in her pockets. She turned her head to the left to look at Isodor. He had a match in his mouth. When he saw her watching, he shot her a wide grin. She replied with a soft smile.

They approached the main road. Hermione knew that the cold would force even the bravest to rush into the nearest popular bars, either the Three Broomsticks or the Swizzle Wand.

 

“I reckon the lads got a table at the Swizzle Wand.” Isodor said.

 

They headed towards the large bar at the end of the road when someone interrupted their walk.

“Kiddo !”

They both turned their heads and saw Pollux and Cole getting near them.

 

“I have searched for you on the train, couldn’t find you anywhere.” Pollux kept going.

“No he didn’t.” Cole smiled next to him.

“You haven’t replied to my last owl. So ? Did you like the present ?” Pollux asked her while lighting up a cigarette.

“Sure Pollux.” Hermione laughed. “I found _12 years old : your body is changing quite interesting_.”

 

_Funny considering you’re older than him._

 

A loud and bright laugh escaped from his mouth and Isodor snickered behind her.

“Though, it was not as captivating of the one you gave me kiddo.”

“Have you read it ?”

“I am a slow reader.”

“Pollux, half of the book is animated images.”

“What’s the name of it again Pollux ?” Cole intervened, a smirk on his lips already knowing the answer.

 

Isodor was already grinning, impatient to find out the name of the book. “Tell us !”

“ _Can’t get your wand up ?_ ” Hermione smugly said.

 

After a couple of seconds of silence, Isodor burst out laughing, catching the innuendo. “Grace you’ve got to give me the reference. I so need to give it to Cygnus.”

“Too much information mate. Draw the fucking line Avery.” Cole smiled.

“Are you coming with us ?” Hermione asked. “We’re going to join the lads at the Swizzle Wand I think.”

“Haven’t you heard ?” Pollux rhetorically said. “The Swizzle Wand is closed today. It’s weird on a back to school day.”

 

_That means the Three Broomsticks will be packed._

 

“That means the Three Broomsticks will be packed.” Isodor complained.

She smiled at him.

 

Hermione looked at the entry of the said bar and saw students waiting outside, blowing hot air on their hands. She deeply hoped the lads found a table.

“Well let’s go to the Hogshead, Abe always has a good bottle of firewhisky for me.” Pollux said to Cole, shoving him in the ribs.

 

They both waved at the two fifth year and left. Isodor grabbed Hermione by the arm and they made their way through the crowd of students. As they opened the door of the Three Broomsticks a wave of warmth enveloped them. She saw, from the corner of her eye, Isodor waving at the lads sitting in a booth at the end of the room. They got closer.

 

They didn’t even have the time to sit down that Thorus stopped them in their tracks. “We’ve been waiting for you for thirty minutes. So now…” He smiled like the Cheshire Cat while pushing a small pile of coins their way “it is your duty to order drinks.”

“Fuck off. I was waiting for Grace.” Isodor shot back.

“Oh for fuck sakes.” Hermione said as she took the money and turned to the bar. She stopped and turned around. “You really are not going with me Isodor ?!”

He was about to sit on the bench and froze at the last second as he heard her. “I was coming, I was just resting my legs.” The blond boy muttered.

The entire table snickered, as did she. The ordered 9 butterbeers and waited for their drinks to be ready. She leaned against the bar and scanned the room she was in.

 

_Feels good to be back._

 

She shot a smile at Belone who was sitting a couple of meters away. Hermione noticed that even though there was a lot of students, there also was a good number of visitors.

 

_Just one bar closes and the entire town settles for this one. You’ve never seen it so packed Hermione._

 

She saw Tom rising from his seat and coming towards them.

“Isodor, Abraxas wants to talk to you.” The prefect said.

The other boy nodded and left the two of them alone.

 

Hermione turned around and laid her arms on the bar. Tom copied her movement.

“Nice cloak.” He said. “Christmas present ?”

“Hum, yeah.” She replied, remembering one of the other gifts she received the same night. A shiver went down her spine and made her tremble from remembrance.

 

_Among other things…_

 

He looked at her then he smiled.

“Oh. I see you received it too.” His voice pulling her out of her thoughts.

 

Hermione was startled. “It was still moving. How can you send that to someone for Christmas ? It’s not a gift, it's a bad omen.” She ending up laughing a little.

“Well at least you had the courtesy of being able to open it while you were alone. He gave it to me in person.”

“Slughorn handed you a moving eye in person ?” Hermione said a little alarmed.

“You got an eye ? I got a tail.”

 

_Sometimes you tend to forget that is only fifteen. He is only a boy. He was only a boy before becoming who everyone fears._

 

They shared a look then smirked.

The barmaid gave them their butterbeers and they went back to the table. On their way to the lads, an older man shoved Hermione on his way to the door. She turned around, expecting him to apologise. The wizard, catching her insistent look mumbled “sorry” with a thick accent and went away. She settled next to Milton.

 

“Gracie !” The small boy smiled. “How was your holiday ?”

The entire table went silent. They exchanged knowing looks between them. They all knew.

 

Hermione had taken the train back to King’s Cross as every other student the day after Slughorn’s Christmas dinner. She had sat with the girls in a carriage at the front of the train. When the train stopped she had smiled at her fellow Slytherin, had taken her trunk and had gone on the platform. She directly had recognized the ministry official. He had had a stern look on his face and had been clutching his umbrella tightly while scanning the students’ faces. She approached him.

“ _Monsieur Boutin ?_ ” She had asked.

He had acknowledged her presence by nodding his head.

“ _Nous allons tout d’abord transplaner au ministère anglais, un port-au-loin nous attend la bas._ ” (Trad : We will first apparate to the english ministry, a portkey is waiting for us there.)

He had offered her his arm, she had taken it and had grabbed tightly her trunk.

“ _Prête ?_ ” He had said. (Trad : Ready ?)

She had given him a shy smile then she had felt the world swirling around her.

 

Hermione had stared at the house, longer than she had expected. She had already been there, yet it had not been the same. It had been at night in May, she had been under shock, she had been overwhelmed. But at the precise moment, she had all the time in the world. So she had spent dozens of minutes staring at the white house. There had been bougainvillea climbing on the facade. On the first floor, there had been a small balcony with a large bay window. She had finally entered the house. It had not been the show flat she had been expecting after months of idleness, it had been alive. There had been books stacked in huge bookshelves, reading glasses on the wooden coffee table. A large patio door had allowed the southern sun to light the living room. It also had shown a little garden, one with swings, one with a small fountain carved into the rock on one of the outside walls.

 

The first night had been rough. She had been ashamed of laying in the bed of the girl who she burned the body. She had been incapable of looking at the modified pictures of herself with Grace’s parents. And she had been unable to sleep.

 

Hermione had always been able to be Grace, but not in this house. “Thief” had been written all over the walls.

 

She had gone to France for a reason, she still had a relative, well Grace still had relative : her grandmother.

Hermione had visited her for the first time on a Monday, two days after arriving in Nice. Dahlia Hortense had stayed in a wizarding retirement home for the past five years. Hermione had held her wand as she entered the room, ready to cast a Confondus. She had been ready to shred Grace’s last trace of existence out of this world. What she had not been expecting though was the delighted smile Dahlia had sent her, or the tight embrace she had given her, or the words she had spoken to her.

 

“ _Ma petite fleur._ ” The old lady had greeted her. “ _Tu as tellement grandi. Tu es magnifique et tu es plus grande que moi maintenant !_ ” (Trad : My little flower. You have grown so much. You are beautiful and taller than me now !)

 

Hermione had not been able to reply for a couple of seconds. She had prepared herself for hours, rehearsing a well-known spell in her head, but she had not had to cast it. Instead of words pouring out of her mouth, tears silently poured out of her eyes.

 

“ _Comment vont tes parents ? Est-ce qu’ils sont là avec toi ?”_ (Trad : How are your parents ? Are they here with you ?)

“ _Personne ne te l’a dit ?_ ” (Trad : No one told you ?)

 

Dementia. Hermione had figured it out on her way back to the house. Someone had told Dahlia. She had simply forgotten and Hermione had found herself telling the woman with two flowers for a name that her son and his wife had died months prior over and over again for almost two weeks. Each time the old lady had cried. Hermione had wondered if those moments of pure sadness were her punishment for stealing her granddaughter’s identity. So when she had gone back to see Dahlia on the last few days of her holidays, she had found herself telling her stories about Theodorus and Beatrice, how they were on holidays, each time changing the destination and inventing new exciting adventures.

 

The reason she had gone to France had turned out to be harder than what she had thought. At the beginning of December, she had received a letter from the French Ministry of Magic informing her that the bodies of the BeauxBatons’ attacks victims were ready to get back to their families for proper burials. That was why she had gone to France and she had visited Grace’s grandmother. She had needed help on the burial, she had wanted to do the right thing for them. Yet, she had been obliged to organise it all by herself. At first, Hermione had wanted to invite Dahlia to the funeral, but she had also wondered what good that would do, so in the end, she had gone alone.

 

It had been cloudy and cold that day. The Caucade’s cemetery had been deserted. As she had seen the two coffins being lowered into the ground side by side, she had taken a picture she had kept in her pocket and put it on top of one of them, the one Hermione had unmodified.  And with a small smile on her lips, she had delicately laid down a bouquet of Dahlias next to it.

 

“Yes, it was fine.” Hermione finally answered Milton.

At this moment the lads really saw her tired face, and the little weight she had gained the last months seemed to have been lost.

 

Thorus, in front of her, quickly changed the subject, feeling the tense atmosphere. “I got a new broom for Christmas.”

“And what use would that be ?” Edgard retorqued.

“Shut up.” The other one laughed.

 

The conversation turned pleasant, they were chatting about their respective holidays within their families.

Hermione chugged down the last drops of her butterbeer then put it back loudly on the wooden circle table.

 

“Well lads, I must leave you.” She informed them.

“Where are you going ?” Abraxas asked.

“I’ve got some errands to run. Let’s meet up at 4PM in front of the apothecary.”

 

She turned around but Milton’s voice made her look behind her.

“Let’s say 4:30PM we want to hit the broom shop.”

 

She smiled at him and looked at the room one last time, still amazed by the crowd within the small pub.

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943 : 

 

“So you left the Three Broomsticks around 2PM ?” Slughorn asked her.

She nodded.

“I need an oral confirmation Grace.”

“Yes.” She simply confirmed.

 

She moved forward in her seat to put the teacup back in its matching saucer laying on the table before her. The contrast of the white saucer with the bloody red cup astonished Hermione. Her eyes wandered on the tea ensemble and she drew the contours with her gaze.

 

_This is wrong._

 

“So you were alone for two and a half hours ?” Slughorn tried to get her to talk, sensing she was spacing off again.

“No. I wasn’t.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943: 

 

As she walked alone south of the village, the chatting noise of the students talking loudly distanced from her. This part of town seemed almost deserted. This area wasn’t known for being popular, except for the Swizzle Wand at the end of the road. With this main attraction closed for the day, only a few people were wandering around.

She saw the second-hand book shop Forgotten Books on her left and she opened the door. The old man, probably the longtime owner, was sitting behind the counter. He wasn’t known for being the most polite person on earth so it was totally normal that they didn’t greet each other. She walked down the aisles, getting herself lost in the mountains of books.

She lost herself for an hour in this bookshop reading the abstracts of some of the strangest books. She had chosen four at the end of this hour : _Progress in Centaurs’ legislation - a thesis on how to make a change_ , _Architectural timeline of the oldest castles in Great Britain_ , _Why should we listen to what elves have to say ?_ and _Wandlore : The Art of Crafting the Ultimate Magical Tool._

She put the books down her enchanted purse and left the boutique. A small group of people walked in front of her, heading north. A man, walking opposite, stood out. He was not wearing particular clothes nor had a peculiar haircut. He just didn’t seem to belong here.

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943: 

 

“Did you know him ?” Slughorn asked.

“No I didn’t.”

“Did you follow him ?”

“No I didn’t.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943: 

 

“Kiddo !”

She spun around and saw Pollux grinning approaching her. His smile fell once he stood in front of her. “You look tired.” He told her.

She let out a humorless laugh. “Well, thanks.”

 

“Are you okay ?” He asked her.

“I’m fine.”

He gave her a pointed look and reiterated his question. She only shrugged.

She knew he couldn’t talk to her like he wanted to a couple of hours priors, and he was about to seize the opportunity of the two of them being alone to ask her about her holidays.

 

“I would have come.” He simply stated. “I would have come if you had asked me to.”

She understood what he was talking about. The British press had released an article about the French Ministry decision to give back the bodies to the families.

 

“I know you would have.” Hermione gently smiled.

“And, are we okay ?”

 

_He is talking about the Christmas dinner._

_You fucked up. You were frustrated from not finding what you were looking for._

_He fucked up. He was too pissed to realise he was bothering you._

 

“We are fine Pollux.” She genuinely answered.

They started walking in silence towards the Shrieking Shack and leaned against the white fence keeping them from entering the house. Pollux pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his black coat and lit one.

 

“How were your holidays ?” She asked him.

 

He snorted. “It was fine.”

She took a good look at him. His features were tight and his eyes hollow. He put a hand through his hair and messed it up a little. Hermione had come to understand that he would do that when he was stressed.

He was a beautiful boy, everyone knew that, but as he took another drag of his cigarette Hermione found him tired.

“It was fine.” He repeated, more to himself than to her.

“One more time and I will believe you.” She gave him a sad smile.

He snorted again. “What do you want me to tell you Grace ? It was shite. My father was on my ass, always talking to me about politics, my mother was obliged to drown herself in wine just to handle two weeks of family gathering and Cassandre..”

 

He took a long drag.

“He hates me.” He threw his cigarette in the snow. “But on the bright side, the Parkinson family always has good bottles.” Pollux laughed. It was so fake that Hermione joined him. Then, his humorless laugh turned into a real one and they were incapable of stopping.

 

“We’re two losers.” Pollux stated, a smile still on his lips.

“At least we’re together in this.”

“Let’s raid Abe’s bar. What do you think ?”

“I told the lads I would join them, but later ?”

 

He smiled. He put his arm around her shoulders and they walked back to the center of the town. “About that book kiddo…”

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943 : 

 

“So you were with Mister Parkinson ?”

“He went our separate ways. He headed south and I stayed a little bit longer in the north.”

 

Hermione took back the teacup in her hands and drank a sip of it. The liquid had gone cold but she didn’t care.

Her eyes were fixed on the coffee table, trying to remember every detail of the day. “I was with the lads, I went to the bookstore, I saw a man, Pollux called me, we talked for a while, we parted ways, I walked alone for a while and then…”

 

“Then what ?” Slughorn said eagerly.

“I saw Tom. I saw Tom and Antonin.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943 : 

 

As she walked she saw them in a small deserted alley. She stopped and quietly got closer. Tom shoved Dolohov violently on the brick wall and put his forearm on the smaller boy’s throat.

“Give me the names.” Tom told Antonin in a threatening voice.

“Tom, mate ! Stop !”

“Give. Me. The. Names.”

 

Antonin’s face became paler. He seemed genuinely scared. “Warwick, Pucey and Greengrass” He answered weakly. “But Tom....”

“Save it Dolohov. Save it for someone who cares. I believe now you know you can’t keep secrets from me.”

 

Dolohov tried to nod, but the strength Tom put on his throat didn't allow him to do so.

 

_What is happening ?_

 

Antonin turned slightly his head to the left and as he saw her, his eyes widened. Tom, by the look of his fellow Slytherin, turned his too and noticed she was standing a couple of meters away. He immediately let go of him. Hermione hurried to walk away and heard “fuck” coming out of Tom’s mouth as she left.

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943 : 

 

She looked at Slughorn, expecting him to say something about the altercation she had just described but the old potion master said nothing. He seemed contemplative.

 

They stayed silent for a bit but a knock on the door interrupted and broke the quietness. Slughorn turned his head towards the door and got up to open it. While he talked with who she assumed to be the nurse, Hermione looked around her. Her eyes wandered on the furniture, enlightened by the chimney’s fire. Two huge bookshelves, filled with heavy books, decorated two of the four walls of Slughorn’s private apartments. The two others were covered by different pictures of the professor with former students, celebrities, politicians.

 

“Then you joined the others ?” Slughorn had just come back and sat in the leather chair opposite of hers.

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943 : 

 

Hermione wondered what she had just witnessed was about. Antonin was scared like he had done something wrong and Tom.. It was the first time she had seen him this angry and violent towards his friends.

She started making theories in her head when Cole called her from afar. She rose her head and saw him walking towards her. “Grace ! Have you seen Pollux ?” The sixth-year prefect was breathing heavily as he had just run a few miles.

“I saw him maybe thirty minutes ago ? We are supposed to meet up at the Hogshead in a few.”

“Just went there. He wasn’t in it.” Cole breath became steadier.

“Should we be worried ?” Hermione asked.

“No, no, no !” He answered, slightly panicked.

 

Hermione’s brows furrowed. She was about to ask another question when Cole cut her in her tracks “I’ll keep looking for him, he is probably snogging some bird somewhere. See ya !”

He was gone before she had the time to greet him goodbye.

 

_Odd…_

 

She stood still, thinking about the weird encounter she just had with Pollux’s best friend, then shook her head and went to join the lads standing next to the apothecary. They were all here, even Tom and Dolohov, and the strange part was that they were laughing together as if nothing had happened.

“Let’s go eat !” Milton declared. “I’m starving.”

“When are you not hungry ?” Edmund chuckled.

“You literally just ate an entire bar a Honeyduke’s chocolate ten minutes ago.” Edgard went one further.

 

As they started bickering they all heading towards the south of town, where everyone was mainly gathered. Hermione could see Tom looking at her and she acted as if nothing happened and started laughing with the lads. As they passed in front of the Swizzle Wand, she slowed her steps and got closer to the pub.

 

“Come on Grace !” She heard Thorus say loudly.

“Yes I coming.” She smiled “I just found it odd…”

 

She got closer and put both her hands on one of the windows. The shop was dark inside but she could notice that the interior of the bar was ready to welcome dozens of people. The chairs were neatly put around the tables, the glasses were all clean ready for use. Hermione narrowed her eyes and focused a little bit more on the bar. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

A somber liquid was smeared on the floor. She followed it with her eyes to find its source. She saw a hand, sticking out from behind the bar. It was holding a wand and it was not moving. Hermione realised the liquid was blood, and that she was looking at a corpse.  

 

_What day is it again ?_

 

“Hortense, are you coming or not ?” Tom almost shouted from afar.

“Wait…” Her voice was barely a whisper.

 

_It’s the ninth. The ninth of January 1943. It’s the ninth. It’s the ninth._

 

The world around her stopped for a second. Everything was in slow motion. Everything clicked in her mind. She turned her head, took a hold on her wand and opened her mouth.

 

“LADS !” She screamed.

 

They all turned around, still laughing at a joke Isodor had probably just said when it exploded. The strength of the explosion propelled her backward. Her head violently hit the floor. Everything went dark for a second. Her vision was blurry. Smoke was everywhere. She couldn’t hear anything from the tinnitus in both of her ears.

 

She struggled to sit up. She saw the entire south of the village burning into ashes, she noticed people screaming but couldn’t hear any noise coming out of their mouths. She saw the lads on the floor, barely moving. She tried to get up holding the wall. It was covered in shattered glass. The material cut through her skin and she could feel the pain. Once she was up on her feet, she looked on the ground for her wand and grabbed it with her right hand. She walked, limping a bit and got closer to the lads. The noises came back slowly. She felt hands on both her shoulders. Thorus was shouting at her.

 

“Grace ! Grace ! We have to move !” He had a large cut on his forehead.

“That’s why it was closed.” She told him.

“What ? We need to run Grace !”

“We need to move !” Abraxas yelled behind them.

 

Everyone was in the south part. The part that was burning.

She was hearing the cries of pain from everywhere. She was seeing the bodies scattered on the ground.

“We need to go help them.” She declared.

 

Antonin, who was now standing next to Thorus, yelled at her. “Are you out of your fucking mind Hortense ? We need to get the hell out of here !”

 

Hermione got rid of Thorus’ arms on her shoulders and ran towards the source of the explosion.

“Hortense !” Tom shouted.

They were standing tall in the middle of the ashes, wearing all black. There were too many of them for her to properly count. Some students have already started fighting back. Others were taking care of children, protecting them and trying to get them back to the castle.

 

“What do we do ?” She heard the panicked voice of Isodor ask Tom. “What do we do ?!”

 

Tom was as lost as them. For once, he didn’t know what to do.

So many things were happening that Hermione didn’t know where to look at. On her right, she saw a seventh-year boy hurrying third years to run. He had his back towards one of the attackers. The latter, seeing the opportunity before him, got ready to shoot a curse at the older student.

 

“Stupefy !” Hermione hexed him before he could do anything.

 

From that moment, everything went fast. She felt all eyes on her. She ran into the battle. She saw a curse coming her way, she hadn’t got the time to ducked it and it hit her shoulder. She stumbled backward.

 

“Reducto.” She cast it, still on the move, but the man shielded himself. She cast another, then another.

As she saw someone getting closer to her, she wordlessly sent arrows towards him. They hit him in the legs and he fell down on the ground, screaming. She jumped over the body and kept running. She hid behind a wall and saw the lads, still standing from afar, frozen in shock.

 

“Don’t just stare !” She yelled at them. “Do something !”

 

Tom grabbed his wand and run towards her. The others split, Isodor, Edmund, Edgard, and Thorus began casting spells while the others helped the injured. Tom pulled her by her shirt and she felt the heat of a spell almost hitting her back. The other four boys joined them, and they all crouched down.

She slightly rose, turned her head above the fragment a wall they were hiding behind and rapidly cast a Confringo. They heard a small explosion followed by a scream.

 

Hermione realised that the lads were staring at her, expecting her to say something. “We need to protect the younger ones by taking the attackers down. We just need to win some time while the professors get here.”

“But we don’t know how to fight.” Edgard pointed out. “We don’t know any spells for that.”

 

They heard another explosion, she turned around a saw a large rock not far from her.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” She said. The boulder levitated and she threw it in the direction of two men standing their back at them.

“You don’t need to.” She said to Edgard.

 

She gave them a last look then rose on her feet and ran. “Grace !”

 

And she ran, she cast Expulsos around her. She could hear glass shattering underneath her shoes. The smoke from the explosion became thicker and made her cough. She cast a Bubble-Head Charm. She was able to breathe properly. She stopped in tracks, two wizards blocking her way, both wearing the Deathly Hallows symbol around their neck.

For half a second, the three of them stayed still. Hermione cast a Protego and the two dark wizards threw red spells at her. She threw a Confringo at one of the men. The latter got propelled backward and his back hit a tree in a loud thud.

 

The other wizard, still standing in front of her, realised that she was no ordinary students. Hermione saw a mocking grin spreading across his face.

“Avada Kedavra !” He almost laughed.

 

As she saw a green light escape his wand, she dropped to the floor, her chest and chin colliding violently with the ground. The killing curse flew over her head, she followed it with her gaze, making sure it did not hit someone. It blasted the window of a house projecting glass around it.

 

She rose her head and saw him ready to shoot another spell at her. Wordlessly she sent birds steering at his face. Even though the wizard got distracted, he nonetheless cast an Incarcerous at her. She felt the thick ropes encircling her tiny body. They got tighter and tighter to the point of her not being able to breathe properly.

 

“Diffindo.” She felt the pressure around dissipate. Tom crouched down and helped her get rid of the remains of rope. They both got on their feet. Hermione fixed the man who tried to kill her, not once but twice. Revenge was the only word on her mind.

 

_Sectumsempra._

 

The white spell collided with her opponent. He stood still for a while, but blood began to flow out his clothes. A red puddle began to pool on his feet.

“What is that ?” Tom asked with a mixture of disgust and fascination.

 

The enemy collapsed on the floor, coughing blood and convulsing. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the body.

 

“He is dead.” The prefect stated emotionless.

“It was either him or us.” Hermione defended her actions.

 

They were now looking at each other. People were running around them and screaming yet everything was still at this moment.

“I know.” He answered. He was genuine like he completely understood.

Hermione’s gaze focused on what was behind Tom. She saw a dark figure, she held her wand above Tom’s shoulder and cast a Bombarda Maxima. She spun around.

For the first time in the last minutes, she finally observed what was going on around her. Students were trying to escape the curses sent by the enemies. The youngest were crying, afraid of every sound and every shot of colors.

 

The lads were jinxing the opponents trying to gain some time, as she ordered them to. On her left, she saw two of the youngest students on the floor. She got closer and crouched down. One of them tried to explain something to Hermione, but he was crying too much for her to understand.  

 

“H-He won’t wake up. He won’t wake u-up.” The student panicked.

Hermione turned her head and looked at Tom, her eyes pleading for him to help.

“You take care of him, I cover you.” He told her.

 

Hermione got closer to the boy dying on the ground. The sun was setting, and the lighting didn’t allow her to see the wound.

 

“Cast a Lumos.” She ordered the crying third-year. He obeyed.

 

As a soft light escaped from his wand, she finally saw the extent of the injury. The one laying had his entire torso covered in blood. A deep and large gash, from his sternum to his left hip, poured the red body fluid. She lacked to know what to do so she instinctively put both of her hands on it and applied pressure.

 

She turned her head towards Tom and saw him battling. He was shooting curses at an impressive rate. The spells were not the basic one the others were using. Tom cast spells not made to fight the enemy back but to hurt him, and during this madness, Hermione thought she saw the beginning of a smirk on Tom’s lips.

Hermione focused back on the boy dying on her hands.

 

_“The Mending Charm is not meant to be used on flesh wounds, as attempting so may create serious scars”_

 

She didn’t know what else to do, so she grabbed her wand, got it close to the wound and whispered Reparo.

The moment the spell escaped her lips the boy began to scream. A piercing scream filled with pain and horror. It resonated all around the battlefield and Hermione couldn’t help but feel tears pooling in her eyes.

“Shhh, it’s going to be alright.” She tried to reassure him. Tears were now flooding her cheeks. “I’m-m sorry, I’m so s-sorry.”

 

Tom turned around as he heard the scream. He saw her, blood all over her hands and hair. The tears on her face and the soothing words coming out of her mouth. Then he saw the kid, the one begging for death, as his chest was being patched-up slowly together.

 

Tom had never seen something this ignoble in his entire life. During this tiny moment of inattentiveness, the enemy behind him got the time to throw a dark severing curse at him.

If Tom had not turned his head towards the latter, he would have had his carotid cut. Instead, he received the curse on the right part on his face.

If Tom had not closed his eyes at this moment, he would have been one eye blind. Instead, he just received the scar that will last for his entire lifetime.

 

Hermione finally realised that she was entirely covered in the kid’s blood.

“What did you do ?” She heard from above, in a horrified voice.

She lifted her head and saw Miss Asphodela.

“I-I didn’t know what else to do.” She replied, the words breaking as she spoke. “He was bleeding out.”

“Okay okay, right, you saved him.”

 

She felt a hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her from the ground. She saw Tom staring at her, blood covering the right part of his face. Hermione realised, by looking around, that the professors were here along with Aurors.

 

“EVERY STUDENT GO BACK TO THE CASTLE.” She heard the voice of Armando Dippet say using the Sonorus charm.

“Come on Hortense, we need to go back.” Tom told her.

 

They walked around the bodies on the floor, their breath ragged from what had just happened. The lads were all gathered meters away, Isodor had a huge gash on his tight and was leaning on Thorus who seemed to have lost all colors on his face. Dolohov was standing straight with a broken nose. Edgard was holding his left wrist as if it was broken. Edmund had a part of his forehead burned as did Milton on his shoulder. The only one who seemed neat was Malfoy, apart from his pointy chin covered in blood.

 

By their reaction as the saw them walking towards them, Hermione understood that Tom and she must have looked terrifying, all bloodied, an aghast look on their face.

Even though Dippet had asked the students to go back to the castle, some of them were still fighting and the others wanted to help more.

She saw Dumbledore talking to the Headboy, who was apparently missing a finger. “You have helped, now enough. You go gather everyone and go back to the castle. Let the adults deal with it.”

“No ! We want to fight !” The seventh-year replied.

 

Hermione saw that the Headboy was not going to back down. Dumbledore rose his wand, flicked it towards the sky and a bright pale blue light illuminated the battlefield. A dome appeared around the fighting area, creating a barrier between the students and the adults.

 

“Go back to the castle. Help young students. Get them to the infirmary. Help them mend their wounds.” Dumbledore said in a stone cold voice. He gave one last look at the student then crossed the dome.

 

Eileen Wu, the 16 years old Slytherin prefect followed Dumbledore without thinking and got through the pale veil.

The HeadBoy, a 17 years old Ravenclaw, followed Dumbledore without thinking and didn’t get through the pale veil.

 

“We can get through” Edmond said.

“And it’s not an age limit” Edgard completed.

 

More older students tried to get into. Some of them, prepared enough got in, the others got stuck outside the barrier.

Tom and Hermione shared a look.

“Guys, dont...” Isodor started.

Tom and Hermione nodded.

 

They walked side by side. Hermione’s heart beating faster as she approached the blue dome. Without hesitating, she crossed the limit and found herself inside. She turned her head to the left looking at Tom.

 

But he wasn’t there.

 

She turned around and saw him behind the dome, incomprehension printed on his pale face.

“Behind you !” He yelled.

 

Hermione turned around and crouched down at the same time. The green spell hit the dome and the latter absorbed the shock in a deafening sound. She took a hold on her wand and without thinking slashed it, causing deep gashes in her enemy’s shins. He fell down on the ground and she stunned him.

 

She quickly got up and noticed that only eight other students were inside. The dark wizards were not simply trying to hurt anymore, they were aiming to kill. She was in front of a wall of humans, she couldn’t see anything.

 

She looked around her, searching for a way to get more visibility. On her right was the remain of a wall. She quickly got on it and spot a curse coming right at her. She jumped on what seemed to be a table. She was standing he what used to be a pub. She busied herself casting spells after spells, dark or light, he didn’t matter. Hermione heard a loud thud behind her and saw a tall man standing on a table opposite to hers.

Everything went fast. He shot curses after curses, she ducked, she cast back, she jumped from table to table and he followed her. She quickly turned around and saw him getting closer. She cast an Evanesco and the table underneath him disappeared.

She heard his neck breaking and she winced from the sound. She jumped off the table and landed badly on her feet. She got back to where she was standing at the beginning, on her right the raging battlefield and on her left the blue barrier.

 

Three meters away from her was standing a fifty-year-old wizard, ready to kill her. After 45 seconds of fighting, she took a drastic decision and cast a dark spell, shattering into pieces every bone in his right arm, the one holding the wand. The man fell on his knees and screamed from the pain. There was no blood, no open wound, just pure pain.

“Please !” He begged.

 

The colours of the spells were illuminating her face : red, purple, green. She cocked her head to the right.

 

_Silencio._

 

And she left him.

Diagonally from her, she saw a man staring at her. He had apparently noticed the action. He was ready to cast something but she Accioed his wand. She broke it in two from rage.

She hadn't realised that someone was in front of her. “Expelliarmus.” The latter said.

She succeeded in getting a grip on her wand and it fell at her feet. A panicked look came upon her face.  

 

_What do you do now Hermione ?_

 

In the spark of the moment, Hermione put her hand into a fist and punched the man in the jaw. She curled up from the pain, sensing her broken thumb inside her fist. She took the opportunity to pick up her wand. She was about to stand back up but she felt a hand pressing on her head, forcing her to stay low.

 

“Fucking look around you !” a seventh-year Gryffindor told her as he shot a curse at the man she had just punched.

They were now standing back-to-back, covering each other. Behind the dome, at the far left, she saw the lads.

The look on their faces confirmed what she was thinking : she was not the Grace they knew. She was not Grace at this moment. She was purely herself.

Three minutes passed when she felt the Gryffindor behind her falling on her. She slightly turned around and he fell backward. She stopped him by the shoulders and got a huge splash of blood on her face. He had his throat slit open. Out of horror, she let go of him and his body hit the ground.

 

Her gaze found the man who just murdered a fellow student. He was mad, laughing out loud. And she was burning inside. He mouthed “Wanna play ?” then started running north of the village. She saw red. She followed him.

“Grace !” She heard Cole shout behind her, outside of the dome. She turned her head. He was alone.

“Where’s Pollux ?” She whispered to herself.

 

_You’ll find him later._

 

She resumed running. She ducked, jumped, slid over and under every obstacles and curses on her way. She found herself in the middle of the north part. It was deserted and it looked just like it did at the beginning of the afternoon. She was following the noise of boots on the snow. They were both in a small alley and silence surrounding them.

The man wanted to talk, to play but she had neither the time nor the patience for it. She was blinded by the hatred inside of her.  

 

“Exantera Vivorum.” She stated emotionless.

 

As he heard the words, his eyes widened. A dark grey light came out of her wand. It hit him in the guts. He slowly fell on his knees, he was not laughing anymore. She turned around, not even caring about his death.

Hermione started walking, she closed her eyes as she heard the body hit the ground behind her. She had never used the Entrail-Expelling curse before.

 

She passed in front of the Swizzle Wand. The first thing she heard was the noise of boots on pieces of glass, then the whispered voice of two men. She got closer.

“You know I am right.” One said.

“You went too far.” Dumbledore replied.

 

_What…_

 

“You were not saying that before. You had the same vision, the same goals, the same ideals. We were supposed to share that together.”

 

She filled the blanks, she understood. Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore were having a private conversation, inside a bar, while a raging battle was taking place just outside.

 

“Students ! Children ! You are out of your mind Gellert. I could never support something like that.” The Transfiguration professor barked.

“But you did. You created it ! It was your idea. And now ? You turned your back on me ?!” Grindelwald spat.

“I did that a long time ago.”

 

Hermione took one step closer. A ring bell resonated. She lowered her gaze on her feet and realised she had just kicked the doorbell which had fallen on the floor. She quickly ran away, not knowing if they had seen her or not. She hurried to get back inside the dome. She only had the time to throw two or three spells that Grindewald’s voice echoed in the dome. “It’s over. Go.”

Every one of his supporters took a hold on the necklace around their necks and disappeared.

 

_Portkeys._

 

She spun around and saw Tom. He had stayed during the entire battle. They stared at each other.

“It’s snowing.” A girl simply stated

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

09.01.1943 : 

 

“But it wasn’t. It was ashes.” She concluded.

Slughorn was staring at her. His eyes were filled with humanity and horror. But Hermione was looking at the teacup which was bloodied, used and broken.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, hope you enjoy it ! Part II is coming 
> 
> We have decided to cut this chapter in two parts because too much was happening, as you saw... 
> 
> Badass!Hermione is finally here !
> 
> Thanks for your support and reviews. 
> 
> Lots of love, 
> 
> -DDM's Managers


	11. A TEMPEST IN A TEACUP - PART II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> We higly recommend you to re-read the last chapter because it's the second part and obviously it's connected. 
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Song : A Tempest in a teacup by Derek Webb

09.01.1943: 

 

They were walking down the corridors. They were talking in hushed voices. They were trying to find out how something like that could have happened just before their eyes without anyone anticipating it. They elaborated some theories, but none of them were satisfactory enough. 

Dumbledore and Dippet were focused on the words coming out of the Head Auror mouth. Since he had arrived in the auror department thirty years ago, he had always been one of those who wanted to change everything for the better. He had worked many hours, had almost lost his life more times than he could count but in the end, he had made a change. 

 

Until tonight. 

 

Tonight Auror Mator was lost. Unable to figure out how the entire attack had happened. In fact, none of them knew. Slughorn was talking to the other auror present giving him a precise list of all the potions the matron would need to treat the wounded. 

They walked beside a group of students, chatting enthusiastically but still in low voices. 

“... I think he is in the infirmary.” One of them said. 

 

On a normal night, the professors and Aurors would have told the students to go back to their dorm, but on this night, every student who felt well enough to talk was a good thing. So they just kept walking. 

“...But Gracie knew. She told us. How come she didn't know if she yelled at us seconds before the explosion then ?”

 

Slughorn turned around. “What did you just say Mister Mulciber ?” 

“Nothing professor. He is just under shock.” Isodor quickly answered. 

“I heard it too.” Dolohov announced. “She called us seconds before the attack. Not to get our attention, but more like a warning.” Antonin locked eyes with the potions professor, an invisible smile on his lips.

 “She knew.” 

 

* * *

09.01.1943: 

 

Hermione could not remember how she got to the infirmary. But here she was, standing straight and blood dripping from her clothes, in a room full of crying children. As she looked around her, she noticed that all eyes were on her. She wondered if it was due to how she looked at the moment or what she had just done. She stopped thinking and focused on finding the matron. 

 

With the bustle around her, it was difficult to even distinguish the students from the medical staff. She put her left foot first and began walking, at least she tried. Every step she took shot an electric pain in her left ankle. However, after a couple of minutes of walking around the infirmary, the pain lessened. She saw, at the end of the room, the matron talking to two nurses. She quickened her pace and arrived at her level. 

 

Miss Asphodela nodded at the two nurses then turned around and faced Hermione. 

“Miss Hortense, you need to get checked.” She took her by the shoulder and began guiding her towards a bed. 

“How is he ?” Hermione cut her. 

 

By the look on the matron face, Hermione knew that she had understood who she was referencing to. 

‘He is alive Miss Hortense.” She replied with empathy.

“He is alive.” Hermione repeated in a low voice. 

“You saved his life.” The matron reassured her and added a little more pressure on her shoulder to show her support. 

“Did I ?” Hermione let out a humourless laugh. 

“You did what you had to do Grace.” Hermione noticed that it was the first time the matron had used her first name. “You saved his life, no matter what.” 

 

Hermione closed her eyes and the images came back in flashes. The reparo, the skin patching up and most of all the screams. 

“Tobias Wilmerton is alive thanks to you Grace. Do not forget that.” She smiled. “You need to sit down now and make sure you are not wounded.” 

 

Hermione turned around and started walking toward a bed. She stopped in her tracks as she saw Tom sitting on one of them with half of his face covered in blood. A nurse was examining his injuries. As she touched the skin around his right eye, Tom hissed. 

Hermione sat on a bed on the other side of the room, her eyes still stuck on the fifth year Slytherin. 

“Is it going to scar ?” Tom asked in a hushed voice. 

“You received a dark curse Mister…” The nurse said. 

“Riddle.” He completed. 

“You should be glad just to be alive.” 

 

With a flick of a wand, the blood on his face disappeared. Hermione silently gasped as she saw his face. A large gash was visible just near his eye. 

“This is going to hurt Mister Riddle.” The nurse told him before saying a spell. 

 

Tom bit his lips as the gash reduced and the skin glued back together. Once the spell was done, the nurse gave him a small nod then left him alone, sitting on the bed, feeling the scar underneath his fingers. He turned his face and saw Hermione looking at him. He dropped his hand as if to stop her to think he was upset about it. He lifted his head and straightened his back. 

The large gash was no longer on his face. A pale pink scar, starting just above his eyebrow going down to the middle of his right cheek before arching towards his right ear, was the only remaining. 

They just kept staring at each other. The infirmary’s door open in a loud thud and all the noises stopped altogether. Everyone turned their heads towards the entrance. Dippet, followed by Dumbledore and Slughorn entered the room. A couple of seconds later, the lads and two Aurors joined them. Once Slughorn noticed Hermione sitting on a bed, he rushed towards her. 

“Miss Hortense, please follow me.” The professor whispered. 

 

She stood up and slowly walked towards the exit. Her body was moving without her noticing. Everything was still a blur in her mind. She felt all eyes on her. She glanced at the lads and noticed Dolohov smiling. Not the typical smile he could sometimes have. This one was filled with slyness. 

 

“Where is she going ?” She heard Miss Asphodela ask behind her. “She is covered in blood and no one has checked her injuries yet.” 

“Everything is fine. Please show yourself out if you have been healed.” Dippet reassured the students. 

She left the room alongside Slughorn, Dumbledore and who seemed to be the Head Auror by the badge he had on his black robes. 

 

They walked a few minutes in silence before arriving in front of Slughorn’s private appartments. 

“I need to talk to the parents.” The Head Auror said. “Horace, please find me once this is dealt with.” 

On this, he left Hermione alone with her two professors. She quickly looked at Dumbledore. Her heart started beating faster in her chest. She finally remembered that she had seen something she ought not to. Her mind began wondering what would happen if Dumbledore noticed she had witnessed his conversation with Grindelwald. 

 

_You’re not sure he had seen you. If not, you have nothing to worry about._

 

“Horace, as Deputy Headmaster it is my responsibility to…” 

“Grace, could you please wait for me inside. There is tea ready.” Slurghorn ordered her. 

 

Hermione nodded, gave a last quick glance at her transfiguration teacher then entered the private apartments. She left the door slightly open for her to hear the conversation taking place right outside. 

  

She approached a large leather chair and sat. She extended her hand to reach a cup. She noticed the state of her hands. Blood was smeared up to her elbow. She began shaking. She took the teacup in her hand and poured some tea in it. The shaking became more violent and she almost dropped the beverage on the ground. She took a deep breath. She tried to focus on the teacup instead of the macabre images in her head. 

 

The teacup was chipped.

 

“No Albus.”

 

It was tiny, almost invisible. 

 

“You have no say in this.” 

 

But the cup was chipped. 

 

“She is my student, my responsibility.” 

 

Like a scar on porcelain skin. 

 

“You will leave us alone.”

 

* * *

09.01.1943: 

 

“But it wasn’t. It was ashes.” She concluded. 

 

Slughorn was staring at her. His eyes were filled with humanity and horror. But Hermione was looking at the teacup which was bloodied, used and broken.

 

“Why am I here professor ?” She finally asked. 

“It came to our attention that you knew about the attack before it happened.” He answered looking her in the eyes. 

“It came to your attention ?” Hermione repeated. “What are you implying professor ?” 

“Nothing Grace. This is not an interrogation. We heard Mister Mulciber say that you warned them a couple of seconds before the explosion. This was confirmed by Mister Dolohov.” 

 

Hermione shut her mouth. “I did not do anything professor.” She said after a minute of silence. 

“I know that Grace.”

She nodded. 

“You should go to the infirmary Grace.” He finished. 

 

Hermione stood up, looked around her one last time then took a few steps towards the exit. She put her right hand on the doorknob and began turning it. She stopped in her tracks as she heard his voice. 

 

“We have found a body in the south part of the town.” She froze, her hand still on the doorknob, her back at him. “The dark wizard had been subjected to the disembowelment curse.” Hermione closed her eyes. 

“Did you found the person accountable for it ?” She asked, her voice tight. 

“No. We didn’t.”

“Professor…” She started.

“My guess is that we won’t.” He cut her. 

 

She turned around. They looked at each other, well aware of what the other was thinking. 

“It was a massacre over there. No one knows who did what.” He concluded. 

 

_Of course he knows Hermione. Of course he knows it was you. Thank god you are valuable to him._

 

She nodded, turned back again, opened the door and left. She leaned for a couple of seconds on the now-closed door. 

She exhaled and felt like she could breathe for the first time in the last hours. 

 

_It’s going to be okay Hermione._

 

She pushed herself from the door and began walking. Even though the entire castle was awake and the lights were on, this part of the castle, the dungeons, was still dark. 

 

 

_It was not in there._

_It was not in there._

_For fuck sakes, it was not in there._

 

Her pace was slow. It was not deliberate but her mind was too focused on something else to realize that she was walking slowly. 

 

_How could it not be in there ?_

_You were so sure Hermione._

_If it was not there, wher-_

 

She felt someone grabbing her wrist violently. She rose her head and saw Tom’s scarred face. She got used to seeing him every day in the last months but with the fresh scar covering a part of his face, she felt as if it was the first time she met him. And she was scared. 

 

His eyes were dark and filled with anger. 

“Wha-” She started. 

“What did you tell him ?” He cut her in a menacing voice. 

“What are you talking about ?” 

 

He shot her a look she had never seen directed towards her. She had seen it earlier with Dolohov. Tom was not angry at this moment nor furious. He was mad. 

“What did you tell him ?” He repeated with a clenched jaw. 

“I-I..” She tried to speak. 

 

She was frozen. Hermione had never felt so vulnerable and afraid in front of a fifteen years old boy. 

“I told him what had happened today.” Hermione finally answered. 

“Did you tell him everything ?” 

“No I did not.” 

 

* * *

09.01.1943: 

 

As she walked alone south of the village, the chatting noise of the students talking loudly distanced from her. This part of town seemed almost deserted. This area wasn’t known for being popular, except for the Swizzle Wand at the end of the road. With this main attraction closed for the day, only a few people were wandering around. 

She saw the second-hand book shop Forgotten Books on her left and she opened the door. The old man, probably the longtime owner, was sitting behind the counter. He wasn’t known for being the most polite person on earth so it was totally normal that they didn’t greet each other. She walked down the aisles, getting herself lost in the mountains of books. 

She lost herself for an hour in this bookshop reading the abstracts of some of the strangest books. She had chosen four at the end of this hour : _Progress in Centaurs’ legislation - a thesis on how to make a change_ , _Architectural timeline of the oldest castles in Great Britain_ , _Why should we listen to what elves have to say ?_ and _Wandlore : The Art of Crafting the Ultimate Magical Tool._

She put the books down her enchanted purse and left the boutique. A small group of people walked in front of her, heading north. A man, walking opposite, stood out. He was not wearing particular clothes nor had a peculiar haircut. He just didn’t seem to belong here. 

 

Instinctively, Hermione started following him. She made sure to stay a few meters behind. He turned left in an empty street. She stopped. She looked around her to find a place to hide. 

The man waited a bit in the alley then a dark figure appeared at the end of the street. As the figure moved closer, Hermione could distinguish his features. Brown hair perfectly styled, piercing dark eyes and slight smirk on his lips. 

“Do you have it ?” Tom asked in a hurry, slightly annoyed. 

“Yes. 7 galleons.” The man replied. 

“You told me five.”

“And now it is seven.” 

 

Tom stared at the man then put out the money from his pocket and handed it. The man got a book out of his robes and hesitated before giving it to Tom. Hermione got to notice the title: _Secrets of the darkest art._ She knew it. She had stolen it. She had read it. And it was dark. 

“How old are you again ?” He asked. 

“As long as I pay, you don’t need to know my age.” Tom replied. 

 

Standing in his Hogwarts robes, Tom gave the man a look. “Take the money, give me the book and leave.” He continued in a low voice. The man complied. 

 

After the exchange, the man left and Tom was alone. He turned around and saw Hermione. They looked at each other, then his gaze fell to the book he was holding in his right hand. He rose his eyes once again to face hers but she was staring at the volume. Once she looked back at him, a silent conversation took place. 

 

**I know what that book is. No you do not. Why did you buy it ? It does not concern you.**

 

“Kiddo !” 

She spun around and saw Pollux grinning approaching her. His smile fell once he stood in front of her. “You look tired.” He told her. 

She let out a humorless laugh. “Well, thanks.”

 

* * *

09.01.1943 : 

 

“Did you tell him everything ?” 

“No I did not.” 

 

They stared at each other in silence. She was looking at his scar and he was looking at the blood covering her face. 

 

“Miss Hortense.” They heard. 

They both turned around startled and saw professor Dumbledore walking towards them. 

“May I have a word with you?” He asked once he arrived at their level. The transfiguration teacher gave a pointed look at Tom, ordering him to leave them alone. The latter gave one last glance at Hermione, stepped back and left. Dumbledore started striding back towards the dungeons and Hermione felt as if she had to follow him. She looked above a shoulder and saw Tom. 

 

_How could he leave when he knew something was up ?_

 

“How are you feeling ?” Dumbledore asked once they stopped. 

If Hermione were an ordinary student she would have felt special. The Deputy Headmaster asking her personally how she was. However, at this precise moment, her entire body tensed. His voice was not particularly cold nor calculated but it lacked the warmth the situation should have brought. 

“Mostly tired.” She replied honestly. 

 

He cocked his head slightly to the left and remained silent for a couple of seconds. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on her behind his demi circular glasses. Hermione’s mind was racing. Should she say something ? Should she wait for him to talk about the subject she was scared to broach ? 

Her thoughts were cut when he spoke up. 

“Do you know how you got into the dome Miss Hortense ?” 

 

She wondered if it was a rhetorical question or if he was genuinely interested in her theories. By the prolonged silence that followed his question, she opted for the latter. 

“The dome let prepared people in. I believe it took both the physical condition and the mental state into consideration before letting anyone in.” She replied. “Thus, it let me in Professor.” 

 

_As did the goblet of fire during your fourth year Hermione when choosing the students capable of competing._

 

“You are completely right Miss Hortense. The dome found you prepared to fight. May I add that you fought well ?” 

 

Hermione squinted a little, trying to figure out the tone he had just used. 

“How could you have known that I fought well Professor ? You weren’t there.” She stated. 

 

She saw something in Dumbledore’s eyes the moment she said the last three words. He had seen her earlier today and now she was sure of it. From years of knowing him in her own timeline, she knew he wouldn’t refute the fact but he would justify it. 

 

“A war does not only take place on the battlefield Miss Hortense.” 

“On a battlefield brimming with students Professor. They were fighting for you Professor, and you weren’t there.”

 

_You are never there Professor._

 

Hermione just realised that she had never witnessed Dumbledore fight. He had always been the mastermind, plotting and giving orders. Yet, he was never in the heat of action. 

 

 ** _“Dumbledore… He… He fooled me.”_** Hermione remembered. Harry’s voice resonated in her head as she glared at the transfiguration teacher. 

 

_In fifty years, Dumbledore would fool Harry and tonight Hermione, he will try to fool you too._

 

“Before making war Miss Hortense, we play it.” Dumbledore retorted. 

“ _Play it_?” She repeated taken aback. “This is not a game Professor. People died. A student died !” Hermione rose her voice.

 

**Three minutes passed when she felt the Gryffindor behind her falling on her. She slightly turned around and he fell backward. She stopped him by the shoulders and got a huge splash of blood on her face. He had his throat slit open. Out of horror, she let go of him and his body hit the ground.**

 

“Edison Morsten’s death is a tragedy but in every war there are casualties.” He explained. “And you, Miss Hortense, are well-placed to know that.” 

Dumbledore was not talking to a student at this moment but to an adult, capable of understanding what being in a war meant. Hermione opened her mouth to spit back but stopped. She analysed his face and realised that he looked tired, exhausted even. 

 

“Is it a game then ?” Hermione finally said. He looked at her in confusion, not fully understanding how she got to this conclusion. “You didn’t refute the fact that this was a game to you Professor.” 

“Miss Hortense…”

“Then I hope we didn’t disturb your game too much by fighting to death meters away Professor.” She cut him. 

“Miss Hortense.” He said in a firm voice. “I understand that after the day you just had you may be tired and emotional but keep in mind that I _am_ your professor.” 

 

A heavy silence settled and they glared at each other. She was about to answer back and Dumbledore understood that so he rose his eyes and looked upon her shoulder. 

“Tom.” He called in a loud voice. “Since you are still here, please take Miss Hortense to the infirmary. She had not been treated yet.” 

 

_Of course he never left. He knew something was up._

 

The Deputy Headmaster looked back at her. “I hope that you are smart enough to know what can and cannot be said.” He turned around and left Tom and Hermione alone. 

“Well, I did not know you had it in you Hortense.” Tom told her. 

“What ?” She turned her head to face him. 

“You were about to insult a professor. Was he talking about ?” Hermione didn’t answer so Tom kept going. “It was not about that and you are not going to tell me anything about the discussion you have just had with him, right ?”

 

_He is finally starting to know you._

 

“Right.” 

They stayed, just the two of them, in an empty hallway for a couple of minutes. It was the first time since the beginning of the attack that there was a real silence. Deafening. She felt her muscles becoming heavier, her wounds beginning to burn and her blood pulsing in her left ankle.

 

They began walking down to the infirmary. Every step she took with her left leg sent flashes of pain up her body. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from sobbing. Tears pooled in her eyes. She clenched her fists. 

“Fuck !” She exhaled. She curled up. 

“Hortense ?” Tom asked, a small quiver of concern in his voice. 

 

She turned her right hand, palm up, and saw her swelled-up thumb turning purple and she began to laugh. 

“It’s broken.” She chuckled.

“You finally lost it.” He replied confused. 

 

Hermione finally straightened her back. Her cheeks were wet from tears. Tom, his eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment, examined her. His gaze finally settled on her right hand. 

“You broke your thumb.” He stated. 

“By fucking punching a guy in the face.” 

“Come on Hortense, let’s go to the infirmary.”

 

She met his eyes. “I can’t.” Tom waited for her to give the reason why. “I think I also broke my ankle.”

He exhaled exasperated and realised she was favoring her right leg. He crouched down a little and cast a _Ferula_. A splint appeared around her left ankle. He took her right arm and settled it around his shoulders to help her walk. 

“Come on.” He said. 

 

Hermione was a little taken aback by how easy it was for him to touch her. She was expecting him to reach for help or just not caring at all. She didn’t expect him to actually help though.  

 

They walked in silence for a bit. Hermione was now remembering the entire day. Her mind went back to Tobias. 

“He survived you know.” She spoke up. 

“Hm ?” He replied, his gaze still focused in front of him. 

“Tobias Wilmerton.” 

“Who ?” Tom asked, obviously not caring about what she was about to tell him. 

“The third-year I healed.”

“Healed ?” He snickered. “You _messed_ him up.” 

 

Hermione stopped walking and without even thinking shoved him against the nearest wall in spite of her broken ankle. She put her wand underneath his chin. “Don’t you dare laugh about that.” She threatened him, guilt rising in her guts. 

 

Even though she must have looked terrifying with the blood covering her face and her wand pointed towards him, Tom could still see a vulnerability and smirked. 

“You should have let him die.” 

“Don’t.” She groaned while pushing her wand further in his skin. 

“Reparo should be used on a broken plate, not a human body. You should know that Hortense, it is a first-year spell.” Her eyes became wet. “I wanted to vomit when I saw you doing it.” 

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.” Hermione repeated, never letting go of her wand. 

“What are you going to do ? Kill me ?” He taunted her. “I would not be your first.” 

 

Hermione was ready to throw a curse at him. She was almost ready to kill him at this instant and that thought scared her. She lowered her wand and quickly took a step back, her eyes still locked on him. 

“How does it feel ?” He smirked. 

 

_How does it feel ? Taking the life out of someone ?_

_The first person you killed was not voluntary. You only tried to hurt him. You cried all night._

_The second person you killed was intentional. You cried all night because you didn’t regret it._

_And from the third one, you stopped crying._

 

Behind the taunting, Hermione could see the sincerity behind his question. “You’re disgusting.” She spat. 

 

_You’re disgusting too._

 

“I am disgusting ? You used the mending charm on a kid. You slaughtered a man and you didn’t give him a quick death. He bled out. And _I_ am the disgusting one ?” He let out a small laugh. “Take a good look in the mirror Hortense.” 

 

“Fuck you Riddle.” She concluded. She turned around and limped towards the infirmary. As she was about to turn left she heard Tom yell behind her. “Interesting spell by the way.” 

 

As she walked alone, she was surrounded by the silence around her. The corridors were deserted and all she could hear was her breath and her steps on the stone floor. She pushed open the infirmary doors. The calm she had experienced a couple of seconds prior had just been replaced by chaos. She limped her way to a bed when someone called her name.

 

“Grace ?”

She turned her head to the left and saw him. He approached her.

“Why are you covered in blood ?” He scanned her face. “Are you hurt ?” He searched for any open wounds. “Where are the blood nurses in here ?” He looked around. 

“Abe, Abe.” Hermione said. “I’m fine. Calm down.”

“No, you’re obviously not. And sit down.” She obeyed at his authoritarian voice.

“Leonara.” Abe called the matron. 

 

The latter gave him a sign to wait and resumed healing another student. 

 

Hermione tried to give him a smile to reassure him. It didn’t work. 

“What happened to you ?” He asked her. “Don’t tell me you got in.” After a small silence, he resumed. “Of course you got in. I totally freaked out. Pollux told me you were supposed to meet him at the bar. You never showed up. So I went here immediately after the battle. And here you are. You entir.. Why are you smiling ?”

“I am glad to see you too Abe.” She chuckled. 

“This is not funny Grace. I was genuinely panicked. Pollux told me you would be there in twenty minutes then I heard the explosion and…”

“You saw Pollux ?” 

“Yes, I just told you that.” 

“When ?” Hermione started worrying about Pollux again. 

“About fifteen minutes before the attack. Why ?”

“Have you seen him since ?” She rose from her seat. 

“Grace sit down. He is not here but…”

 

_He is dead._

 

Her head started turning and her legs began shaking. She looked right at Abe with wide eyes. He put both of his hands on her shoulders to stop her from panicking. His lips moved yet she couldn’t hear a thing. 

 

_He is dead. Pollux is dead._

 

She stared at his lips and thought she discerned _St Mungos_ , she snapped back to reality. 

“Lots of students were sent there.” Abe finished. 

“He is at St Mungos.” She repeated to herself like a mantra. 

“He _might_ be.” Abe insisted. 

“Abelforth let her breathe.” Leonara said approaching the two.

 

The nurse took him by the arm and they both moved away from her. Even though they were not beside her, Hermione could still hear their conversation. 

“She is having a panic attack.” Miss Asphodela whispered. 

“Have you seen Pollux Parkinson ? Or heard anything regarding him ?”

“I already told you. We don’t have a precise list of students transferred to St Mungo’s.”

“How many were killed ?” 

“Three for the moment. On the battlefield.” She replied giving the names of the three dead students. “Two others are in an alarming state.” 

 

_He is not dead. Pollux is not dead._

 

Her breath became steadier. 

“Here, take this.” Miss Asphodela told her at the same time as she put a calming draught in her hand. 

“I feel better there is no need.” 

“Miss Hortense, take the potion.”

“I just told you I didn’t need it.” Hermione snapped, pushing the draught away from her. 

 

The nurse gave her a suspicious look then examined her. A few healing spells later, her wounds closed and her bones mended. “Stay here two more minutes, just for your bones to be strong enough for you to walk back to your dorm. Then take a shower and sleep.” Miss Asphodela gave her a small nod then went away. 

“Are you feeling better ?” Abe asked her. 

“I think.” 

“You heard Leonara. Go shower and rest.”

“I’ll wait. Maybe there will be news about Pollux.”

“No sweetheart. I’ll stay here and take care of that. You need to sleep.” 

 

Abe kissed her forehead and she smiled at him. As he walked away, she looked around her. Her mind not focusing on anything. She heard whispers and felt eyes on her. Her eyes fell upon the lads, standing across from her, a couple of meters away. They were all staring at her. She didn’t tear her gaze away. 

Isodor was lying on the bed with a large bandage covering his right thigh while the others were gathered around him. 

“Are you feeling alright Hortense ?” Abraxas asked her. 

 

The usual disdain present in his voice was gone and replaced by what seemed respect. 

“I’m fine Malfoy. Are you lads okay ?” Hermione answered. 

“Living my best life.” Isodor joked from his bed. She chuckled and got up. 

 

She put her left foot first and felt no pain. She continued walking through the crowded room. She was only a few meters away from the door when the latter opened violently. 

“Where is my son !” A fifty years old man yelled as he entered. 

 

Hermione looked behind the man and saw Dippet, alongside Dumbledore, the Aurors and the four candidates -Malfoy, Tuft, Rosier, and Lestrange- quickly reaching for him. 

“Mister Morsten, please…” Dippet slowly said. 

“Where is my son !?” He repeated. He seemed panicked, looking around him, his arms trying to grab anyone who could help him find his son. Although Hermione knew that he wouldn’t. 

“Mister Morsten.” The head Auror approached the distraught man. “We should have this conversation somewhere else.”

“I just want to see my son. I just want to see Edison.” 

 

Hermione felt her heart sank as she watched the father sob. He was fisting Mator’s black robes, his hands becoming white as he added more pressure. She felt as if the world had just stopped. And for a moment it did. There were no sounds other than the cries of a sonless father. There was no movement other than the father’s shaking shoulders. There was just pure agony, and everyone felt it. 

Hermione thought about his son. His throat split, his eyes wide open in shock. A father should never see his son in this condition. 

“Edwin.” The other Auror whispered. As he heard his name, his head snapped up. “Come with us.”

“You !” Edwin yelled, pointing his finger at Dumbledore. “You were supposed to keep him at bay.”

 

Hermione understood how Edwin Morsten could feel betrayed. Everyone relied on Dumbledore to keep Grindelwald away from England. And today he had failed. 

“It is not Professor Dumbledore’s fault.” Tuft intervened. “No one’s at fault.” 

“You are at fault. All of you ! With your bloody promises. You have blood on your hands ! All of you ! How could you have let this happen ?! He was a child. He was my son.” His words got cut by large sobs. 

 

Hermione felt a lump in her throat. 

 

_But they did something._

 

Tuft had always known that something like that would happen sooner or later. So she had taken the matter in her own hands : more protections around the castle, dozens of Aurors ready to intervene if necessary, the discussion she had had with Dumbledore and Dippet about the necessity of shield - the Dome -. She had done something but as Dumbledore had said, there are always casualties in a war. 

 

Hermione’s eyes fell on the transfiguration professor and she understood at this moment what he had meant. 

 

“I put him on the train this morning…” The father kept crying. Iru Mator, the Head Auror, took him by the shoulders and guided him out of the room. Dippet tried to calm the students, and Dumbledore stayed still. Hermione thought that he had never looked as old as he did at this precise moment. She wiped the tears off her cheeks and left the room. 

 

She was taking the last step leading her to the Slytherin common room. Only a few meters and she would find the peace of her dorm. 

“... I’ve searched for you everywhere ! Did you even look for me ?!” Cassandre almost shouted. 

 

_This day is never going to end._

 

A loud silence followed the youngest Parkinson’s question. Hermione kept walking, not wanting to interfere with the drama going on not far from her. 

“You’ve never replied to any of my letters. We were supposed to meet this morning, you never showed up. I kept waiting for you. What happened ?” Cassandre asked with a mix of concern and anger in his voice. 

“Nothing happened Cassandre.” Walburga coldly answered. 

“Then why ?” 

“It was a mistake from the beginning Cassandre.” 

“What are you talking about ? We were supposed to run away together. We promised.”

“And I made a promise to my family.”

“Your family ? You fucking hate your family Walburga. Don’t pull that shit on me.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like them or not. I have a duty towards them. I could never betray them.” 

 

Hermione saw the Slytherim common room door at the end of the hallway and prayed to the gods to reach it quickly. 

 

“Open your eyes Cassandre. It was never going to work. This is going nowhere. And even if I could marry into the Parkinson family, it would have never been you. It would have been your brother. You’re not the heir.” 

 

 

Hermione stopped as she heard the harsh words, her eyes wide open. 

“Is it about that then ? Pollux ? It always fucking about him.” Cassandre shouted, blinded by hatred not understanding what Walburga had just meant. “Fuck him !” 

 

Hermione started walking again, quickening her pace. 

“No Cassandre, it’s…” Walburga’s words were cut as Hermione closed the door behind her. 

 

She let her head fall on the door, closed her eyes and just breathed. Her mind was blank, not thinking about anything. She couldn’t hear a sound, the common room was empty. She finally began to calm down and felt the tiredness drowning her senses. 

“Kiddo ?” A quiet voice said. 

 

Her heart raced, her eyes opened in half a second and her head turned to the left, where the sound came from. Pollux was lying on a couch near the fireplace, his eyes not completely opened. Hermione approached him, shaking. He rose up into a sitting position, his hands rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes. She didn’t let him take a real look at her that she closed her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Wow kiddo calm down, let me take a hangover potion first.” He chuckled. 

 

Hermione realised that he was stinking alcohol. Again. She let go of him and he finally really looked at her. 

“Grace ?!” He stood up and took her by the shoulders. “What the fuck happened to you ?”

“You don’t know ?” Hermione’s voice broke a little. She spent the day worrying about him when he was passed out from alcohol in the common room. “There was an attack.” 

“What ?!” He looked around him, panicked. “Where’s Cassandre ?” 

 

**_“Is it about that then ? Pollux ? It always fucking about him. Fuck him !”_ **

 

“He’s fine. Don’t worry about him.” 

“And Cole ? Abe ? You ?! You’re soaking in blood.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, stay there. Don’t move. I just need to see him. I-I just need to see my little brother. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” 

 

Pollux looked right at her one last time then left the common room. Hermione found herself alone. She wanted to snap at him, cry on his shoulder, hug him, slap him. She had too many emotions overwhelming her at this moment. She realised that she had been controlled by her emotion the entire night, going from angry to scared to depressed to angry again. She just needed to sleep. 

 

She turned around and climbed the stairs to her room. All of her roommates, expect for Walburga, were asleep. Hermione got closer to her bed with catlike stealth and found a steaming cup of tea next to a handwritten note. She recognized Slughorn’s writing : _Dreamless potion_. 

 

Hermione took the teacup in her right hand and flowed her thumb over the porcelain.

It was not chipped anymore. 

 

* * *

Btw we made a YearBook photoshop of all the characters (Tumblr : agarariddle-andhernachos)  
You can check it out [here](https://agarariddle-andhernachos.tumblr.com/post/185590571742/dying-is-a-delicate-moment-link-ffnet-link)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, 
> 
> Sorry for the delay. But we're back !  
> Obviously Pollux is not dead and Tom is still a little bitch. 
> 
> We're living in the same city again, so it should be easier to work on ddm.  
> Hope you enjoyed it ! 
> 
> Lots of love 
> 
> \- DDM's Managers


	12. WORLD GONE MAD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts are written in Italics
> 
> Big line : New POV
> 
> Small line : Same POV / Time lapse
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> ___  
> Song : World Gone Mad by Bastille

 

16.01.1943 : 

 

“... Fear will not tear us apart. Violence will not divide us. We stand united as wizards and as humans.” Dippet deep voice echoed in the Great Hall. 

 

Hermione looked up at the window behind the Headmaster. Thousands of white flakes were carefully falling from the silver sky. 

 

_You’re so screwed Hermione._

_ Step 6 _ _: failed._

 

Her eyes fell back on the table. The lads were all focused on the words coming out of the old wizard’s mouth. She had never seen them so invested in what he had to say. Tom was scanning the room, the students, the teaching staff. His face was unreadable. 

 

_The painting was not in there._

_And you know what it means Hermione._

 

Hermione tried to focus back on the eulogy and kept her eyes on the large professor’s table. She heard quiet sobs coming from the Gryffindor table but forced herself not to look. 

 

_If it is not in Slughorn’s Private Apartments._

_It means it is… there._

 

She looked at Tom. 

 She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. The thump in her temples came back. The deafening sound of blood in her brain. It had started a week ago, right after the attack. Hermione blamed it on the lack of sleep.

Every night she laid awake in her bed, staring at the deep green canopy. When she closed her eyes, trying to fall into Morphea’s arm, she heard Tobias’ screams. So each night, she kept them open. 

What else could she do but think ?

 

She thought about how, when she was in Slughorn’s private office, none of the walls hung what she had been looking for. 

She thought about how she had spent months talking to each painting of the old castle, trying to figure out where it could be. 

She thought about how one of them, on the night of the Christmas dinner, had told her that house’s related paintings were usually in the head of house chambers. 

 

Dumbledore’s voice got her out of her train of thought. The transfiguration teacher was standing straight in his dark grey robes. He put both his hands in front of him, fingers interlaced. 

“Today, we acknowledge the losses of Edison Morsten and Benedict Jenkins. As you all know, they were the perfect embodiment of their house’s values. Bravery, determination, courage…”

 

Hermione exhaled quietly, relieved that the pain in her head lessened a bit. She couldn’t help but think about the eulogy Dumbledore had given in her fourth year. Unlike what she had felt at that time, tonight while looking at Dumbledore, she was resentful. 

 

She had arrived in this timeline nine months ago. As every day went by, she became more aware of who Dumbledore truly was : manipulative, calculating and cunning. 

She had read Skeeter’s book and as she knew the character, she didn’t believe every written word. However, she started doubting. She doubted her own judgment in her own timeline. Harry trusted him and she trusted Harry. Yet, Harry had told her he had fooled him. And she trusted Harry. 

 

Hermione was startled by the comeback of her headache. Professor Wink, the Charms professor, had started talking about the fifth-year Ravenclaw, Gemenia Bishard, who died in St Mungo’s from the extent of her wounds. 

 

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

16.01.1943 : 

 

It was hurting, a searing pain around his right eye. It had been a week and the pain was still there. Tom tried not to be bothered by the physical aspect of it but just looking in the mirror reminded him that he was not invincible. 

He could have died and that thought scared him. If he was not sure about doing it before, he was sure now. 

 

“Are you okay Tom ?” Milton asked him. 

Tom realised that his right cheek was slightly twitching. 

“Fine Milton.” He answered annoyed. 

 

They were all sitting in the common room, in the leather sofas in front of the fireplace. The place was mostly dark due to the heavy clouds outside, but the candles scattered around the room and the chimney brought enough light for Tom to keep reading his book,  _Legendary Creatures_. 

 

“You know you can go see the matron if it’s still hurting. I went to see her yesterday and she was really helpful.” The small boy continued not noticing that Tom didn’t want to talk further. 

“You went to the infirmary ?” Dolohov snickered. “Why ?”

“Come on Antonin.” Abraxas began laughing. “Our little Milton was  _badly_  hurt.” The blond mocked. 

“My bad. He is a real war hero. Tell me Mitlon” Antonin put his elbows on his knees and got closer to Muliber, sitting on the floor. “Were you hurt before or after someone thought you were a third year in need of help ?”

“Shut it.” Milton tensed. 

“Come on lads. Leave him alone.” Thorus intervened. He was lying on one of a couch, throwing a ball in the air and catching it repeatedly. 

“He is just jealous.” Belone added while passing behind the couches where the lads were gathered. “Tom actually helped while Milton was getting helped.” 

“Bold of you to say that McNair knowing that you ran back to the castle just after the explosion.” Milton snapped. 

“Are you serious ?” Grace cut. 

 

Tom turned his head, he had almost forgotten that she was sitting with them, reading a book. 

“Are you really arguing about who did what ?” She kept going. “Should I remind you that none of you knew what to do ? If you want to take the piss out of Milton, maybe I should take the piss out of all of you.” 

 

Everyone stared at her and shut their mouths. Grace turned her head and met Tom’s gaze. “And he’s right. You should go to the infirmary Riddle.” 

Tom shut his book loudly, put it down on top of another one and got up. “I am fed up with you.” He said, looking at everyone. “If you do not want to shut up then I will take my reading somewhere else.”

He grabbed both books from the coffee table and left. 

 

_Morons._

 

Tom walked towards the common room door when Cole said his name. He turned around and saw the sixth-year prefect sitting on a couch next to the two Parkinson brothers. 

“Riddle !” He got up. “Do you want to do it now ?”

 

_What he is talking about ?_

 

Tom stopped and cocked an eyebrow. Woodcroft looked at his book and added “You’re on your way to the library ? Perfect, we can talk while walking.” 

The blond Slytherin approached him and they both left the common room. 

“Sorry about that. I just needed an escape from those two.” 

“What are you talking about Woodcroft ?” Tom asked not really interested in what the other had to say. 

“Pollux and Cassandre. Two insufferable little shits. I can’t with them anymore.”

“Still arguing about Black ?” 

“Walburga, their parents, everything you could argue on. Everything you couldn’t argue on too when I think about it.” 

 

_I think I should have a conversation with him._

_It could be interesting to have a-_

 

A small kid, running in the corridors, bumped into him. Tom stumbled back and dropped his books on the floor. 

“Oy !” Cole rose his voice toward the second-year Hufflepuff. “Watch where you going ! Detention you bludger.” 

The boy didn’t say a word and lowered his head. Cole crouched down and picked up the two books on the floor. 

“Abusing your power Woodcroft ?” Tom smirked. 

Cole chuckled and took a good look at the books he was holding. 

“ _Legendary Creatures_ and  _Architectural Timeline of the Oldest Castles in Great Britain_  ?” Cole slightly laughed while handing them back to Tom. “You’re such a nerd Riddle.”

 

They arrived in front of the library’s door. 

“I guess you owe me something Woodcroft.” Tom smirked. 

Cole chuckled. “What do you want ? Quidditch World Cup tickets ?”

 

Tom liked Cole. On top of being the heir to one of the important families in England, he was genuinely likable. However, everything was easy for him. Just hearing him offering priceless tickets to Tom just because the latter had helped -without even knowing- was infuriating.

 

“Two tickets. For the final.” Tom answered. 

“What are you going to trade them for ?” Cole rose an eyebrow well knowing Tom’s intentions. 

 

And that was why Tom liked Cole. “See you later Cole.” 

Tom pushed the door open and entered the quiet room. He sat at his usual table and opened the books in front of him. 

He looked around him and spotted a book at the end of his table. He rose up and approached. The volume was opened and a large ink stain hid the content. 

 

Tom didn’t like when things were not in order and he didn’t like when people didn’t take good care of things. He moved his wand above the book and made the ink disappear. 

He looked at the title of the chapter. 

 

_Might be interesting._

 

* * *

 

27.01.1943 : 

 

Abraxas Malfoy threw the  _Daily Prophet_ on the wooden table. “That is bullshit.” 

The front page of the newspaper showed Wilhemina Tuft in a press conference at the Ministry of Magic with the frontline “ **A half-blood for the win ? The end of pureblood dictatorship.** ” 

“She earned five points in the latest polls.” Thorus explained. “And your father, Malfoy, lost seven.” 

“Did I ask for your opinion Nott ?” 

 

Thorus rose his hands in a sign of peace and took the newspaper in his hands. 

 

“The election is on the 14th of April. We still have the t-” Milton started. 

“The time ?” Dolohov cut him. “Politics don’t work like that Milton. Haven’t your parents taught you anything ? Were they to busy teaching your brother about how this works ?” 

Milton opened his mouth to defend himself when Edgard stopped him. “We’re not here for that.” 

 

After the release of the article this morning, a meeting became necessary. Tom gathered the lads on this stormy evening in the same room on the fifth floor. He hadn’t spoken a word since it began. 

 

“You know what is the worst ?” Edmund rose his voice. “Mudbloods think they got power now.”

 

Thorus let out a loud laugh. “Of course they do. Tuft’s son is married to one of them.” 

“So what do we do now ? More than half of the population is for the only not pureblood candidate.” Edgard asked. 

 

Tom chuckled. The lads all turned around to face him and waited for him to speak. 

“If I may add something…” 

 

_We are finally getting somewhere._

 

* * *

 

27.01.1943 : 

 

The lads and Tom left the room. They walked in silence in the stairs going down the second floor. 

A door slamming, coming from a nearby hallway, stopped Tom in his tracks. The lads turned around and they all stayed silent for a while. 

“Go back to the common room. You're not allowed to be there.” Tom ordered them. They nodded and kept going down as Tom began walking towards where the sound came from.

 

He took his wand out of his pocket and cast a Lumos. 

“Who’s there ?” He asked. 

A female sob was the only answer Tom got. He turned left and entered the girl’s bathroom.

“Show yourself. It is past curfew.” He announced. The sobs became louder. 

 

_Why do I have to do this again ?_

_I should have gone with the lads._

 

Then a moan. Tom exhaled. 

“Warren. It is past curfew. Come out.” He tried again. “Come on. I will not give you detention.” 

One of the stalls opened quietly and Myrtle Warren got out of the toilets, her eyes red and puffy. 

“T-To?” She stuttered without finishing the word, her breath still panting with sobs. 

“Yes it is me. Come on. Let’s get you back to your common room.”

“Y-you don’t have to.” She answered slightly panicked. 

“And hear tomorrow that a fourth-year Ravenclaw wandered at night during my patrol ? Not going to happen.” 

He turned around and heard her follow him. They walked along in silence, except for the sobs which became less frequent. 

 

_Merlin, can’t this girl quit it ?_

 

Myrtle stopped in front of a knobless door. Tom looked at it. It had a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Tom had never seen the entrance of the Ravenclaw's common room until tonight. He was eager to know how to enter so he looked at the girl next to him and waited for her to enter. As he saw she was not doing anything he told her “Well ? Enter.” 

 

Warren took the knocker in her right hand and slammed it twice. 

“ _What gets broken without being held_  ?” The eagle asked. 

 

_They need to answer riddles._

_How clever..._

 

A small silence settled. Tom couldn’t find the answer. 

“A promise.” Myrtle barely whispered. 

Tom turned around and was a little taken aback. He didn’t expect this answer from her. 

“ _I knew you could get in_.” The eagle answered. 

 

“It was your last strike Warren.” Tom said while turning around. He didn’t even wait for her to get in that he was already taking the stairs down. 

 

* * *

02.02.1943 :

 Tom got out of transfiguration and walked in the corridors with Isodor, heading to their next theoretical class : Defense Against the Dark Arts. In front of him, Grace and Edgard were talking about the new spell they just learned. 

“Hey Kiddo !” Someone shouted across the hallway. 

 

Tom noticed Pollux and Cole coming their way. 

“Sod off Pollux.” He heard Grace laugh. 

“Still co-”

“Pollux I’m not waiting for you.” Cole informed his friend. “Not again.” 

 

Woodcroft smiled at Grace and nodded at Tom before continuing his way. Pollux flipped him off and focused on Grace again. 

“Still coming to see me ?” He asked her, putting his arm around her shoulders and began walking along with them opposite to where he was supposed to go. 

“I’d rather watch Milton eat”. She said loudly.

 

The small boy, behind Tom, protested. “Hey ! Not cool.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean kiddo.” He faked being shocked. “Why don’t you wanna come ? Is it because of your irrational fear of brooms ?” Pollux teased. The latter leaned against her to whisper in her ear. “You rode a dragon for fuck sakes.” 

 

_Come again ?_

 

Tom scanned the lads to see if he was the only one who heard. They didn’t seem bothered. He was the only one.

 

Grace shoved Pollux in the ribs. 

“What ?” The sixth-year chuckled. “Don’t get fucking wasted kiddo if you don’t want to spill any of your secrets.” 

 

_Interesting._

 

Tom heard Merrythought, who was waiting at the door, yelling “Parkinson ! Language !”

 

Pollux bowed dramatically at the teacher and smiled “ _Milles escouse gendarme_ ” (Trad : Doesn’t really mean anything, but was suppose to mean  _Excuse-me madam_ )

 

Grace started laughing. Tom had never seen her so carefree before. 

“And you call yourself fluent” She teased him. 

Pollux mimed stabbing himself in the heart and said “you wound me kiddo.” 

“Stop being so dramatic Pollux. It doesn’t suit you.” 

 

Tom just realised something. Grace was caring with Milton, sarcastic with Thorus, laughing with Isodor, but with Pollux, she was different. It was pure friendship. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

02.02.1943 : 

 

Hermione settled next to Belone in the middle of the room. She opened her book  _Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts_  and turned it to page 394, the reductor curse. 

Merrythought began.

 

As they all started rehearsing the hand movement, Hermione heard Belone chuckled next to her. She turned her head to where her fellow slytherin was looking at and saw Milton struggling. 

“Watch.” Belone whispered. 

She rose her wand slightly then switched it. Milton’s inkpot spilled on his desk. Belone snickered. Hermione could see a satisfying grin appearing on her face. 

“Why do you hate Milton so much ?” Hermione asked, genuinely interested. 

Belone looked at her puzzled. 

“Apparently my father would have stolen his father’s job at the ministry.” Belone built the suspense for a couple a second before continuing. “Which totally accurate.” She whispered while winking. 

“But he hasn’t done anything to you personally ?”

“That’s true. But look at his face Grace. I love-” She dragged the “o” a smile on her lips “seeing his face when I bother him.”

“Do I sense a lingering a crush Belone ?” Hermione teased. 

 

Belone looked at her before laughing out loud, bringing the entire class's attention to the two of them. 

“Ladies.” Merrythought warned them.  

 

Belone and Hermione mouthed “sorry” at the same time then began whispering again. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Grace. I am soon to be married.”

“Excuse me ?” Hermione rose an eyebrow. 

“Come on Grace. Everyone is betrothed.” 

 

Belone put one of her elbow on the wooden table and pointed her index finger towards random person in the room, telling Hermione who they were betrothed to. “Dolohov. Yes he is too. No one knows to who though. I like to think that is ashamed. Why ? Just a guess.” 

“And you ?” Hermione asked. 

“I happen to be one of the lucky girls.” A real smile spread on her face. 

 

Hermione found herself smiling too at the happy look her friend had. Merrythought cleared her throat and all the chatter stopped. 

“So we will be stopping here today. But before you leave for lunch I have an announcement to make. After fifty years of teaching, here at Hogwarts, I believe it is my time to step out and let a new professor join the teaching staff. I decided to tell you all today because I just got the confirmation this morning that Headmaster Dippet had found a replacement.”

 

Students around the room began talking to one another, asking questions to the professor whereas Hermione tried to focus on what she had just heard. 

 

_You have already heard that Hermione._

_Where have you heard that ?_

 

Everyone seemed shocked. Everyone except a bunch of boys, all members of the Slugclub. 

 

_They knew. How ?_

_Maybe Slughorn told th-_

 

She stopped her thinking and looked at Tom. 

 

_No._

_Tom told them._

_Tom told them during a dinner._

_Tom told them during a dinner then had a private conversation with Slughorn._

_They talked about Horcruxes._

 

Tom looked back at her. 

 

_Fuck._

 

That was why Tom had bought the book on the day of the attack. He had already had the conversation with Slughorn. He had already known about them. He just needed to know how to make them. How to make seven of them. 

 

* * *

21.02.1943 : 

 

Slughorn was sitting behind his desk and Hermione was standing behind her cauldron. They had started three weeks ago brewing polyjuice potion. On this day, the steps were easy and there were just a few of them. When she had finished stirring her potion, she let it rest and sat down in front of him. 

 

“Well Grace, as you know the orientation session had already begun. “ Slughorn told her, offering her a cup of tea she gladly accepted. They already agreed on doing hers on one of their private classes.

 “So what do you want to do after Hogwarts ? What is your plan ? Follow your parents' path ?” He asked her. 

 

_Dentists ?_

 

“Would you see yourself a professor ?” He kept going. 

“Oh !” Hermione said. “Not really.” 

“Well, where do you see yourself in ten years ? Twenty ? Fifty ?”

 

_Fifty ?_

_You see yourself home Hermione._

 

“I never had the opportunity to think about the future. Even back home, never got the chance to think about it.” She replied honestly. 

Slughorn became uneasy at her words. He looked right at her and softly smiled “now you have the time Grace. What about Auror ? You clearly got the skills. But master potion would suit you more. You could maybe one day take my place. Wait, no. No teaching you said.” He winked. 

 

_Take the opportunity Hermione._

 

“It is a really difficult thing being a professor. I don’t know if I have the skills for it. For instance, I don’t know how you do this professor. I don’t know how you manage when a student comes to see you and ask you about terrible things that will get consequences on their souls..” 

 

Concern spread on his face and his eyebrows furrowed a bit. 

“Grace, you did what you had to do.”

“Professor, I-” She tried totally lost. 

“What you did was horrible but necessary. You have a past and you have every reason to do it. Do I condemn it ? Yes, with all my heart. But do I understand it ? Yes, with all my heart.”

 

Hermione wanted to say something, to scream at him that she was not talking about herself, but talking about a monster. And now, she wondered if she was the monster. 

 

“You are manipulative, calculating and cunning Grace. But that’s what will get you there. Whatever you will do in ten years, twenty years or fifty years, you will do things that will matter.” 

 

Hermione was a little emotional at Slughorn’s speech. This feeling quickly disappeared as he kept talking. “Of course, don’t forget that I was there Grace. Tutoring you, pushing you and guiding you. You will always have a place on my shelf.”

 

_He’s still a Slytherin after all._

_He doesn’t care as long as you’re on his shelf._

 

She nods. He got some pamphlet out of his desk and put them in front of her. He opened his mouth and began explaining to her which paths she could choose. 

 

* * *

01.03.1943 : 

 

Things began to fall back into normal. People stopped thinking about the attacks and mourning. Classes went back to normal. Everything seemed more normal. 

Hermione began to sleep again, she got used to the nightmares. But even though she slept better, she still had headaches. They were not constant, but seemed to happen more and more often. 

 

And today she had this nudge. She couldn’t put her finger on it. She knew she was missing something important. 

She was lying on her bed trying to figure out what she had forgotten. 

 

_Grindelwald, Tom, the lads, Dumbledore, Slughorn ?_

_What are you forgetting Hermione ?_

 

Hermione got up and left the dorm. She closed the door quietly behind her and went to the common room. It was silent and only the crackling of the chimney could be heard.

She briefly scanned the room and noticed him. He was sitting behind the chess set, playing against himself. 

She hesitated on coming back to her dorm. She took a step back. 

“Still not sleeping ?” He asked her without raising his head. 

 

She looked behind her to make sure he was talking to her. 

“Yes I am talking to you Hortense.” He finally looked at her. Hermione could see in his eyes that he was ready to provoke her, like he always did. 

“Not tonight Riddle.” She simply said. “I’m not in the mood.”

His expression changed. “Fine. Let’s play then.” He showed her the chess set with his hand. She stayed still for a moment but finally sat in front of him. 

“White I suppose ?” He smirked. 

“Not tonight. Not in the mood to  _play_.” 

 

Tom understood what she meant. She wanted to play chess. However, she didn’t want to play his game. He put the pieces back to their initial position. And it began. 

 

They played in silence for the first ten minutes. 

 

_You still don’t know what you are forgetting._

 

“Was it the same ?” He broke the silence. 

“What are you talking about ?” 

“Back there. Was it the same as the attack in January ?”

 

He was the first one to broach the subject with her. Everyone stared. Everyone whispered. But he was the first one to ask. Hermione took the time to think about it. 

 

“I had two close friends. Not close friends. They were my brothers.” She chuckled. “I even thought I was in love with one of them.”

 

She played her next move. 

 

“We did everything together. We were in the same house, the same classes. We spent holidays together. They were my first friends. They’re still my first friends. Nothing is going to change that.” She kept going. 

 

“Did they fight along with you ?” Tom asked.

 

“We did everything together. I used to be a know-it-all. To follow the rules by the book. Afraid of the consequences if I didn’t respect them. After six months of friendship with them, I think I broke all of them.” 

 

She stopped for a while.

”They knew I loved the chair on the left of the chimney in our common room. So when I stayed late in the library they always made sure this chair was available when I came back. 

 _Henri_ always left little chocolate next to me when I was studying during our exam period. He was afraid I would forget to eat. We never talked about it. It was just natural. 

 _Romain_ taught me how to play chess.  _Henri_ was better than me at first. But we kept playing and I got better. Even won against  _Romain_  once and I didn’t even cheat.

Then the war began. We lost people. We began to get scarred. But at least we were together.

One day, we were given a mission. We had a goal but no instructions. But we were together. Until we were not. Out of three we became two.  _Romain_  left us. It was scary, we were angry.” She stopped to think. 

 

“One day I had to cut  _Henri_ ’s hair. I was as scared as he was.” Hermione chuckled. “He had this mass of hair, wild. He told me he liked it at the end. But I really believe he just said that not for me to feel bad. At least we were together. 

 _Romain_ eventually came back. Safe and sound. And we were back together, the three of us.” 

 

_The golden trio._

 

“And now-”

 

She stopped abruptly. She inhaled. “Now I am alone. I lost them. I lost them during a war. During an attack. I spent my last moment with one of them. He was fine. And the other one ? I still don’t know what happened to him.”

 

She examined the pieces in front of her and shifted her queen. 

“So no Riddle. It was not the same. Back then, I had this constant fear. Not of dying myself but to be alone. In January, it was only instinct. There were no feelings involved. And that changed everything.” 

 

Her queen moved to E5 and shattered his king. 

“That is totally barbaric.” Tom stated. 

“That’s wizard chess.” She replied instinctively. 

 

She froze. 

 

_That’s it._

_That’s what you forgot._

 

“It’s his birthday.” She whispered. “That’s what I forgot. That’s what nudged me all day.” 

She finally looked at him. 

“I forgot about his birthday.” She concluded. “How could I have forgotten his birthday ?” The only thing present in her voice were pain and guilt. 

 

Tom didn’t answer right away. She had always looked sad, but tonight she was broken. 

“Let’s play another game.” He finally said, magically resetting the game. 

 

* * *

10.03.1943 : 

 She was sitting one of the bed, her legs crossed under her. She had come to the infirmary right after her transfiguration class for her headaches as it had become unbearable. The matron gave her a calming draught and she was waiting for it to start working. 

 

The door opened and two younger girls entered. 

“Miss Asphodela, Myrtle got hurt.” She heard a girl say. 

“Sit down on a bed I’ll be here in a bit.” The matron answered. 

 

Leonara got close to Hermione. “Take off your shirt. I am going to take a look at your old wound.” 

 

The nurse closed the curtains around Hermione’s bed to give her some privacy. She took off her shirt and let the matron do her work. 

“It seems to be finally healing.” Miss Asphodela smiled at Hermione. “You can get dressed. Don’t forget to keep applying the ointment every night.” 

 

Hermione got up and took her shirt. She put her hands in the sleeves holes. “Thanks Miss Asphodela.”

The nurse opened the curtains as she put her head through the neck. She turned 90 degrees to the right and saw two girls staring at her. None of them spoke for a couple of seconds before the blond one broke the silence. 

“You’re Grace Hortense !” She said rapidly. “I am Olive Hornby and this is …”

“Moaning Myrtle.” Hermione finished without even thinking. 

 

The two Ravenclaw opened their eyes wide before Olive started snickering. 

“Nice nickname ! Never thought about it, I-”

 

_Fuck._

_Well done Hermione._

 

“So why are you here again ?” Hermione cut, desperately trying to change the subject. 

“Myrtle fell down the stairs.” 

 

_And you, Olive, pushed her._

 

Hermione finally knotted her tie. “Well, get better.” She hurried out of the infirmary. 

 

* * *

17.03.1943 : 

 

It had been a week. 

A week of people whispering behind her back, shutting up as she passed near them. 

And she still had no idea why. 

 

Even the lads became more distant. She truly felt alone, except for Pollux. But they were not in the same classes, didn’t have the same schedule. 

She sat down in transfiguration and opened her book. She closed her eyes and felt the headache coming back. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically. 

The class began and she was unable to focus on anything. She put her head in both of her hands and tried to steady her breath. She closed her eyes. She thought that maybe she could sleep for a bit. At least, when she was asleep there were no rumours around her and no searing pain in her head. 

 

A book fell on the floor not far from her and made her head snap up. Her gaze was still sleepy and fell on her professor. He was staring back at her. The pain in her head intensified. And she understood. 

 

_How dare he ?_

_How could he ?_

_How could he talk about right and wrong and then do that ? And to you ?_

_What is he even looking for ?_

 

Her hands began shaking from anger and she resigned herself to stay sitting. She waited. 

Her right leg was twitching, her fingers were tapping the wooden table. And she waited. 

She waited for the class to end. She waited for the students to leave. She waited for him to be alone.

Hermione was staring at him as the room emptied. 

“Tom.” Dumbledore said, well aware of Hermione’s gaze on him. “I believe Headmaster Dippet is waiting for you in his office.”

 

Hermione turned her head and understood that Tom knew something was up and as usual wanted to witness it. He nodded his head at the professor and left the room. They were finally alone. 

Hermione stood up abruptly and made her chair fall. 

“Legilimency is illegal.” She shouted.  

“Miss Hortense, listen…”

“No ! You listen to me. You’ve been inside my head for two months. You had no right !” 

 

Dumbledore flicked his wand. At this moment Hermione understood that the room was not soundproof and Tom had surely heard the beginning of their argument. 

“Miss Hortense do not forget that I am your professor.” He stated. 

“Yes you’re right. You are my professor. However, that doesn’t give you the right to violate my mind ! And for what ? What were you looking for ? What were you so desperate to find ?”

“Your behaviour didn’t add up Miss Hortense.” 

“W-Wha-What ?” Hermione was completely lost.

“You saw me with Grindelwald. The reason for all your losses. Yet, you did nothing.”

“You too ! You did nothing ! You could have killed him.” 

“You could have too. You had all the reasons. He killed your family, your friends, everyone you knew. No one would have blamed you. England would have understood. You would have been a war hero. And still, Miss Hortense, you didn't even try to do something. And that doesn’t add up.” Dumbledore explained. 

 

_He’s trying to manipulate you._

_He’s turning the situation around._

_You have done anything wrong Hermione, he’s the one who got into your head._

_He’s the one to blame._

 

“And you think that gives you the right to get inside my head  _Professor_?” Hermione asked. 

“I did what I had to do for the school, for the students, for the-”

“Greater good ?” She cut him. 

 

He closed his mouth. They stayed in silence as they looked at each other scornfully. 

“At least, have you found what you were looking for in my head ?” 

“Miss Hortense, we both know that your mind is not easy to get in.” He replied. 

 

Dumbledore looked at her above his glasses. 

 

_What did he see ?_

 

* * *

17.03.1943 : 

 

Hermione closed violently the common room door behind her and paced in front of it, her hands in her hair. 

 

_How could he do that ?_

_How could he do that to a student ?_

_How could you’ve let him do that ?_

 

“Wow Grace ! What’s going on ? Sit down you’re making me dizzy.” She heard Thorus approaching her. 

 

She rose her head and stopped walking to face him. 

“Oh you’re talking to me now ?” Hermione yelled. “After days of silence, you’re talking to me ?”

“Grace you’re making a scene.” Thorus whispered between his teeth. 

“I don’t give a fuck if I’m making a scene Thorus !” 

 

Isodor snickered on the couch not far from her. 

“You’ve got something to say Avery ?” She shouted at him. 

 

Hermione just snapped. After two months of a quasi constant headache, which turned out to be her professor violating her privacy, a week of the lads ignoring her and people talking behind her back, Hermione finally snapped. 

 

She looked at the room and saw everyone looking at her. 

“No one talks ? She kept yelling. “Do you want me to leave the room so you can all talk behind my back ?” 

“Grace.” Thorus called her. 

“Tell me Thorus. What is everyone saying about me ?”

 

Nott didn’t answer, he simply looked at the lads, desperately trying to find some kind of help. 

She shoved passed him and got close to Avery. 

“Isodor. Tell me.” 

Once again, no one talked. 

 

She spun around and faced Milton. 

“Come on Milton.” She said. 

“Grace…”

“Is it not  _Gracie_ anymore ?”

“It-it’s nothing.”

“You’re a fucking coward Milton. No one’s going to tell me ?”

 

Dolohov snickered. 

“Dolohov…” Tom warned him. 

“No Riddle. Let him talk.” Hermione cut him. “Maybe for once he would have something interesting to say.”

“We saw it.” Dolohov spoke up, proud. 

 

_What’s he talking about ?_

 

“I warned everyone not to trust you. I was right, now I have a proof. I saw it.” He kept going.

“You didn’t see anything.” Isodor interrupted. 

 

_What could they have seen ?_

_The felix felicis ?_

_The marauder’s map ?_

_The Black’s dagger ?_

_The polyjuice ?_

 

“Everyone’s talking about it.” Dolohov continued, taunting her. “I don’t even need to see it. I can imagine it.” 

“The fuck are you talking about Dolohov ?” Hermione rose her voice. 

“The scar.” Tom answered. 

 

A silence settled. 

“Which one ? The one that I wear as a choker ?” Hermione snickered. “It’s no secret.” 

“No Hortense.” Tom smirked. “The one on your arm.” 

 

Her blood drained from her face, her hands began to shake lightly. 

 

_How ?_

_Calm down Hermione. You’ve got this. You’ve considered this scenario._

 

“What’s on my arm then ?” She calmly asked. 

“Mudblood.” Dolohov spat.

“I’m sorry Dolohov, did we just not established that you haven’t seen it ?” 

“Someone saw it.” Malfoy intervened. 

“Was it you Malfoy ?” Hermione asked. “Did you see the word Mudblood written on my arm ?” 

Malfoy didn’t answer.

“Silence speaks more than words.” Hermione stated. “Who saw it then ? Did someone even see it ?” 

 

The silence came back until a first-year spoke. “Myrtle Warren saw it.”

“You mean Moaning Myrtle ?” Abraxas snickered. Everyone laughed at his intervention. 

“Did you know I was the one who gave her this nickname Malfoy ?” She asked him. “No answer ? I guess you didn’t know. Don’t you think it’s funny that the girl I mocked is the one spreading rumours about me ?” 

“They were two Grace.” Edmund added. “Olive Hornby saw it too.” 

“Do tell me Rosier. What did they see ?” 

“They saw  _Mud_ on your arm.” Milton completed. 

“So you just assumed that it was saying  _Mudblood_. Well Milton, we all assume here that received the same education as your brother. Yet, you prove us every day that we are wrong.”

 

Hermione had to spread doubt. And as she said the last sentence, she could see people reconsidering what they thought about the situation. 

“And you Dolohov.” She turned towards him. “Always the first one to point fingers. Of course it is convenient for you if I have  _Mudblood_ written on my arm.”

 

They all knew what she was talking about.  

“If you’re so sure Dolohov, if you’re sure I have  _Mudblood_ written on my arm, swear it on your magic. Swear on your magic that I have  _Mudblood_  written on my arm.” She dared him. 

He didn’t take the bait and closed his mouth. 

“Once again, silence speaks more than words.” Hermione concluded. 

 

She turned around and left the room. Once in the hallway, she exhaled loudly. She couldn’t go back inside until she had calmed down. She walked for a bit in the deserted corridors. Her mind was going to explode. 

 

_Between Dumbledore and now that, you feel like you can’t do it anymore Hermione._

_But you’re nearly there._

_You’ve worked so hard._

_You can do this Hermione._

_It’s nearly the end._

 

Her head was spinning. 

“Kiddo ?” She heard. “Are you okay ? Do you need to get to the infirmary ?” 

“Did you know ?” She asked Pollux on the verge of snapping. 

“About what ?”

“About the scar !” She finally snapped. “You should have fucking told me.” She shoved him. “You’re supposed to be my friend Pollux. What the fuck ?” 

“Grace, calm down a bit !” 

“You thought it was funny maybe ?” Hermione shouted. “Everyone talking behind my back, about the poor little girl who just arrived after a war with scars and…”

“I don’t care about the rumours. They’re fake.” 

 

She looked at him. “Yes, they are fake.” 

 

Pollux was about to put on of his hands on her shoulders but she took a step back. 

“I think I need to be alone. I’ll see you later Pollux.” 

 

She quickly left and got to the seventh floor. She passed three times in front of the wall before a door appeared. She got in and settled in her usual wagon. Hermione looked outside the window. 

 

_Maybe you should think about it._

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

15.04.1943 : 

 

“It was fixed.” Edmund spat.

“Of course it was.” Abraxas barked. 

 

The lads were tensed. All gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast, they had just finished  _The Daily Prophet_. As Tom already knew months prior, Tuft had won. 

 

“It is mudblood’s fault.” Dolohov spat. 

“Shut it Antonin.” Thorus shoved the latter in the ribs. “You’re not at home.” 

“We should be allowed to say what we want.” Abraxas rose his voice. “We are the founding families. Without us those  _mudbloods_  would be nothing.” 

 

_It is going to be even easier than I anticipated._

 

Tom looked around them and he noticed her. 

It had been almost a month since the confrontation about the supposed scar. The rumours had lessened, people were not talking much about her anymore. Few of them were still not convinced though. 

She used to sit in the middle of them but now she was on the side. Sat next to one of them still, but not taking part in the conversation. 

 

_It is maybe for the best._

 

She was in front of Pollux and Cole and had her own discussion with them. She seemed more closed, just like her mind he supposed. 

He had been a month and Tom had not forgotten the few words he had heard between Grace and Dumbledore. 

 

Tom stood up and spoke to the lads. “Let’s go to class.”

The seven boys stood up too and began walking towards the exit. 

“Aren’t we not waiting for Gracie ?” Milton candidly asked. 

Dolohov turned his head and took a good look at her. “I am not waiting for a  _mudblood_.” 

Tom saw, from the corner of his eyes, Grace’s shoulders tensed. 

“As a matter of fact…” Abraxas started but stopped as soon as Tom shoved him in the ribs. 

“No. We are not waiting for her.” The prefect concluded. 

 

As he left the room, Tom caught a glimpse of Grace. She was staring at Pollux, a determined look on her face. 

 

* * *

15.04.1943 : 

 

They were, as usual, in the same room on the fifth floor at night, during one of Tom’s patrols. No one had spoken yet. The lads were all sat on their chair, watching Tom pace the room, waiting for him to finally speak. 

 

“What we thought unrealisable at the beginning just happened.” He finally spoke up. “We were defeated and the world as we knew it is no longer. The change has already begun and it is a change you are no longer a part of. You, the sons of the mighty 28. You, the heritage of our country’s value. You, my friends are no longer the future of our great nation.”

 

He stopped walking and faced them. They were all looking at him as if he held the only valuable truth. 

 

“We have lost tonight. Not because our ideals were wrong, because my friends, they are not. We lost tonight because your fathers are purebloods. And that is the sole problem of this election. 

 

Purebloods were becoming once again too powerful and must therefore be destroyed. What they did not realise however, is that purebloods cannot be destroyed. They detain more power than any of them would dream of. 

Purebloods have values, traditions, knowledge and connections that are essential for England. They might think that they can live without pureblood, but they are only fooling themselves. You know it. I know it. They do not know it yet. 

 

This election was the first step in their futile emancipation from what they think they do not need. This election was the first stage of casting the pureblood aside. Because, my friends, this is what they are trying to do : cast aside the powerful, cast aside the true heirs, cast aside what they are not and can never be.”

 

Tom stopped and stared. The lads, at the interruption of his speech, began whispering among themselves. He got close to his chair and laid his forearms on the wooden structure. After a few seconds of silence, Tom resumed. 

 

“After all of that ? After the attack in January ? After hypocritical declarations that the fight was solely against Grindelwald and his regime, and once the purebloods had laid down their political arms, the annihilation of the purebloods began according to their plan. And Dumbledore, the perfect embodiment of Gryffindor as they all think, was supposed to fix all of our problems ? Not at all. The only thing he did was sowing the wrong seed in people's mind.”

 

As he said those last words, Tom saw the confusion on the lads’ faces. 

 

“No we are not alike. Dumbledore is wrong : we are not alike. Us and the mudbloods. Two separate education living in the same world. Those who were raised knowing about magic and its value and those who were not. And that my friends is where we trace the line. 

How dare mudbloods, who come into our world without even knowing magic exists before they are eleven, try to cast aside those who were raised in it ? 

How dare mudbloods come into our world and try to change what had been established for centuries ? 

 

Maybe Salazar Slytherin was right after all.”

 

Tom sat down. 

 

“So what now Tom ? What do we do ?” Isodor asked him. 

 

_Now, I shall rise._

 

* * *

15.04.1943 : 

 

They entered the common room, determination printed of their faces. The lads headed towards their dorms whereas Tom lingered behind.

 

Grace was sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, a book in her lap. He made sure the door was properly closed and that no first year was out of beds. He walked behind the couch to reach his dorm but stopped in his tracks as he heard her voice. 

“Did they believe you ?” She asked him. 

 

Tom turned around and saw Grace still reading her book as if she had not spoken to him. 

“You gave them hope about their fathers winning this election. However we are both aware that was not your belief. We said it ourselves that Tuft would win and well before her rise in the polls.” She kept going. 

“I do not know what you are talking about Hortense.” 

 

He resumed walking and fell upon Thorus on the corridor leading to their dorms. 

“You’ve played them.” Nott simply stated. 

“How come ?” Tom asked. 

“You knew Tuft would win from the beginning.” 

“Any smart person would have known. And that is why your father, and you too Thorus knew. They were no other candidate fit to take the slot.” 

“Are you playing me right now Tom ?”

“I would not be a Slytherin if I was not.” 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

Thorus slightly pushed her arm and Hermione rose her head. 

“The class is over.” He kindly said. 

 

She nodded and packed her things before following him outside the rune’s room. They descended the main staircase in a comfortable silence. As they approached the first floor they heard a loud thump followed by a snarky laugh. 

“I-I need to go to the library. Do you want to come with me ?” Thorus asked her in a rush. 

 

Hermione took a good look at him. Another loud noise echoed and before Thorus even opened his mouth she walked towards the sound. 

Milton and Isodor were holding a boy by the arms while Dolohov played with his wand in front of him. 

“What should I do with you ?” Antonin taunted him. 

“Make him bleed. Take the mud out of him.” Milton said. 

“Finally Milton.” Dolohov smiled. 

 

Hermione saw a grin appearing on Milton’s face. 

“What the fuck is going on ?” Hermione snapped as she approached them. 

 

The three Slytherin turned their heads. 

“Hortense.” Dolohov smirked. “Get in line. You’re next.” 

“Antonin…” Isodor warned him. 

“What ? Am I wrong ? We don’t know anything about her and we all know what’s written on her arm…”

“That’s the thing Dolohov. You don’t know what’s written.” 

 

She turned around to walk to her common room but stopped a few meters after. 

“At least do it in a place where no one can see you,  _idiots_.” Hermione told them. 

 

_You really have to do it know._

 

-

* * *

 

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“Ok.” Hermione exhaled while looking at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror. “Everyone’s asleep. You’ve put a locking charm on the door. You’ve put a silence charm. You’re really going to do it.” 

 

The only sounds she could hear were her heartbeat and her shaky breath. She put both of her hands in her hair and closed her eyes. 

 

“You’ve got everything. Everything’s in order. You’ve got this. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine.” 

 

_It’s not going to be fine._

 

She put her hands on the sink and let her fingers tap on the edge. She looked at the material laid in front of her. She counted again if she had everything. She had. 

 

“You’ve got this. Just do it. Take it and do it.” 

 

She put her hair in a bun and exhaled. She approached her right hand from the tool but backed down. 

 

“Come Hermione. You’ve got this. You’ve…”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“...got this !” Orion Black laughed. “Come on Isodor. Don’t be a pussy.”

“It’s on his fucking head Black !” The blond answered. 

“Another reason for you not to screw up.” Tom teased. 

 

All the fifth years Slytherin boy were gathered in their dorms, none of them could sleep so here they were, playing around.

Abraxas had a green apple on his head and was standing by the bathroom door. 

“Come on Avery !” He shouted. “I’m getting bored over there.” 

“Shut up Malfoy or the knife is going to end up in your head instead of the apple.” Isodor rose his voice. 

“It’s not a knife Isodor. It’s a dagger. The Black’s dagger.” Cygnus intervened. “Been in the family for centuries.” 

“Well, let me rephrase then. Shut up Malfoy or the  _Black’s dagger_  is going to end up…”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“...in and breathe out Hermione.” 

 

Hermione put the palms of her hands on her eyes. She stayed that way for a couple of seconds before facing her reflection once again. She released her hair from the bun. 

 

“No. Not going to do it. No. No. No” She exhaled. 

 

_You have to._

 

Her right hand began shaking as it got closer to it. She finally took it. It felt heavy. She rose it then dropped it as if it had just burnt her. It fell in the sink in a loud noise. 

 

“There must be another solution. I’m not going to it. It’s…”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“...insane !” Edgard chuckled from his bed. 

“Thanks Edgard !” Isodor exhaled. “I was ready to do it but now you’ve distracted me, I have to start from the beginning.” 

 

All the other boys groaned. Isodor shifted from one leg to another. He closed his left eye and rose the dagger then did the same with his right eye. Abraxas, in front of him, had leaned on the door and crossed his arms in annoyance. 

 

“I bet he’s going to miss.” Dolohov whispered to Tom. 

“I bet he is not even going to throw it.” The prefect answered a small smile on his lips. 

 

Isodor turned his head and flipped them off. “Thanks lads for the support.”

“Focus !” They both yelled at the same time. 

“Come on Avery ! We don’t have all…”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“...night. You don’t have all night Hermione.” 

 

She began pacing in the small bathroom. “If you’re going to do this you’ve got to do it now.” 

She stopped walking and faced the mirror once again. She took it once again. She froze. 

“For fuck sakes ! Do something !” She yelled at herself.

She felt the tears in her eyes. “Please do something.” 

 

“Just do…”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“...it.” Cygnus pressed the young blond. 

“Come on. I believe in you.” Thorus told him.

“You’re the only one.” Isodor complained dramatically. 

 

Tom was leaning on the bedpost of his own bed, he pushed himself from it and took two steps. He ripped the dagger from Isodor’s hand and threw it across the room. The dagger slit the apple in half and stayed in the wooden door. 

 

“That is how you…”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“Do it !” She screamed at herself, tears of frustration pooling in her eyes. 

 

Everything stopped for a second. There was no heartbeat anymore, no shaky breath, just a deafening silence. 

Without tearing her gaze away from the mirror she felt her right hand moving from its own accord towards her left forearm.

As the  _Black’s dagger_  pierced her skin, she let out a haunting scream. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

They screamed, laughed and cheered. 

The eight boys tackled the laughing prefect on the ground. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

She fell on the floor. Her head began spinning from the loss of blood and the memories coming back in her mind. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

“If Tom had missed and had grazed me, what would have happened ?” Abraxas asked Cygnus. 

“You don’t want to know.” He chuckled. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 22.04.1943 : 

 

Lying on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood, Hermione had blacked out before she could finish. 

 

* * *

29.05.1943 : 

 

“Pour me another one Abe.” Hermione asked him, slightly tipsy. 

“Only because it is your birthday.” He smiled while serving her. “After, you need to go back.” 

 

She grinned at him and took a sip of her drink. Abe disappear in the backroom for a minute and came back with a wrapped up present. As the sight of him grinning, she couldn’t help but smile too. 

“You didn’t have to Abe…” She shyly said. 

“Open it.”

 

He dropped the package on the bar and she opened it. A silver holster laid in a white box. She took it in her hands. At the bottom right, Hermione saw an inscription  _GH_.

Hermione hopped on the ground and went behind the bar to hug Abe tightly.

“Thank you so much.” She murmured. 

 

She went back to her stool and finished the drink in one go. 

“Let’s go back to your common room now.” Abe told her. 

“One more drink.” 

“Grace, you should really go back.”

 

Hermione glared at him. She understood that there was something up, Abe had never asked her to go back to her dorm. 

“What did you do Abe ?” She asked. 

“I didn’t do anything.” He quickly answered. “However Pollux…”

“For God's sake. I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

 

_Or rather Grace’s birthday._

 

“Well you didn’t tell him.” Abe pointed out. 

 

Hermione groaned, rose from her seat, took the holster and left the bar after saying goodbye to Abe. 

As she walked her way back to the castle, feeling slightly intoxicated, she began scratching her left forearm. She had taken off the bandage the week before, but she still felt an unpleasant tingling sensation. 

 

Hermione arrived in front of the Slytherin’s common room. She exhaled and entered. Music, coming from the radio, enveloped the room. People were chatting enthusiastically over a glass of firewhisky or butterbeer. Hermione dived into the crowd and reached for the table filled with drinks and food. She poured herself a drink and saw the lads with Pollux on the other side of the room. She approached them. 

“What’s she doing ?” She heard Pollux complaining. “She’s always fucking late. Well, yes she doesn’t know but still…”

“Pol…” Mitlon started. 

“Maybe she is upstairs and no one saw her. Knowing her, she may be hiding.” The sixth-year kept going. 

“Pollux, she is currently behind you.” Tom stated emotionless. 

 

The latter turned around and smiled at Hermione. “Hey ! Happy birthday kiddo !” 

 

Hermione couldn’t help the displease look she had on her face. She had told Pollux many times that she didn’t want any party for her birthday. After the second of May, Hermione had felt more down than ever and she was not particularly prone to celebrating the birthday of the dead girl she stole her identity from. Yet, here she was. 

 

Sensing the tension, Pollux gave her a poorly wrapped gift. “That’s for you.” 

She took the present and opened it. “Thank you Pollux.” She faked a smile. Hermione tried to hide the gift from the lads but Antonin took the opportunity to embarrass her. “What is it ?” 

“A book.” She simply replied. 

Isodor, on her right, grabbed the book and laughed. He turned the volume for everyone to see. “ _When’s your next period ? And we’re not talking about classes_.” Avery laughed out loud. “Nice one Parkinson.” 

 

* * *

29.05.1943 : 

 

Hermione ended up dancing with Belone in the middle of the common room. After her last glass of firewhisky she realised that she was stuck at this party so she decided on trying to have fun. The song ended, she embraced Belone and went for another drink. 

 

“Keep pouring Grace.” She heard coming from behind then saw a glass next to hers. She did as she was told and handed the glass to a smiling Cole. 

 

While talking to him, she actually had fun. 

 

“Kiddo !” Pollux called her from the other side of the room, not caring about bothering the people listening to the music. 

She took Cole by the arm and dragged him along towards the lads and Pollux. 

“You really look like you’re hating this party by the smile on your face.” The oldest Parkinson teased her. “By the way, you never told me if you had liked the gift.” 

“Shut up.” She laughed, swaying a bit from alcohol. 

“What else did you get ?” Edmund asked. 

“Abe got me a new holster, surprisingly Slughorn offered me a new potion set…”

“Surprisingly ?” Lestrange snickered. 

“And my grandmother sent me a box of my favorite childhood treats :  _Calissons d’Aix_.” Hermione finished. 

 

She noticed the surprised looks the lads seemed to have on their faces. Hermione had never talked about Grace’s family. Tom had a slight smirk, understanding that she had drunk maybe a little too much. 

 

“Hortense, I am talking on behalf of all the lads here, and I would like to apologize for not giving you a present tonight.” Tom spoke up. 

“It’s fine Riddle.” Hermione tried to cut short. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

“Afterall, with all the tension between you and the lads lately, because of all your secrets, your lies... You kind of drifted apart. Didn’t you ?” 

 

She looked around her and realised that no one was going to help her out of this situation. Not even Pollux. 

 

“My lies ? You’re still on that ?” She blurted out. “All of you, you’re still on that.” 

“How could we not ?” Tom asked her. 

“Do you want me to show you my scar ?” 

 

Riddle’s brows furrowed in surprise. 

 

“Which one Riddle ?” She asked him smiling a little. “The one on my calf ?” She lowered her left sock revealing a large claw mark. “I got a little  _scratch_ there, a little gift from a werewolf.” 

 

Hermione stopped for a second.

 “Or do you want to see this one ?” 

 

She undid the top three buttons of her shirt. A pale large gash was visible, but only a part of it. 

“Quite the scar this one. Interesting story by the way. But that’s not the one you're interested in ? Right ?” Hermione closed them back. 

 

“Then there’s.. Oh no, you’ve already told me that you weren’t talking about this one.” She said while flowing her finger on her throat. “However, what you don’t know is that I got this one on the same night as this one.” She held her clothed left arm up. 

 

Even though the lads, Cole and Pollux were mortified by the scars she had shown them, as soon as she rose her arm up, she saw the morbid curiosity crawling in their eyes. But Tom was almost smiling. 

“By the same knife too.” Hermione kept going while by starting rolling up her sleeve slowly. 

 

First the  _d_ , then the two  _o_ ’s, the  _l_  and the  _b._ She saw Antonin smiling at the sight of the word  _blood_  scarred on her skin. However, his smile faltered as she showed them the entire scar. 

“Are you still on that now ?” She asked everyone. 

 

She looked at each one of them. For the last couple of months, they were too focused on the word they thought was on her arm to realise what it meant. Someone had taken a dagger, and wrote in her flesh. And tonight, while staring at it, they finally understood the atrocity of it. 

 

She shot them a smile, rose her glass, proudly exposing  _Madblood_  to the entire room. “Here’s to you Grace.” She declared. 

No one talked, no one moved. Except for Tom and his glass in the air. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, 
> 
> So we did a 10k chapter. Sorry about that. Got a little carried away. 
> 
> Sorry for not replying to the reviews, we looooooove them and we're gonna reply soon ! 
> 
> Lots of love, 
> 
> -DDM's Managers


	13. WICKED GAME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was above everyone, but still below him" Tom thought.
> 
> Stranded in an era that isn't hers, Hermione has a Plan. The Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me.”
> 
> And he kills her.
> 
> \-------------------------------  
> Song : Wicked Game by Chris Isaak

  **PART I : THE PLAN**

 

As she got closer to the end of the passageway, she put her hand in front of her eyes trying to shield herself. She came across the thin wood of the twin painting and pushed it. She stumbled out. Hermione gaze was on the ground, she recognized Hogwarts' stone floor, she rose her head and saw chaos.

 

She was back. She made it.

 

Screams were resonating through the devastated hallways. She could hear the cries of pain, smell flesh and blood. Flashes of colours were cast. Green, red, purple were mixing up for her to witness the most horrid shade she ever saw.

 

She was back. She made it.

 

She heard Harry's voice calling for her.

Her vision became blurry by the tears pooling in her eyes. A little chuckle escaped her mouth.

 

She cast a reducto towards the brick wall separating them. She finally cast the spell she should have cast a year ago. Once the smoke dissipated, she finally saw Harry's face. She ran in his arms and clutched at him.

She opened her hand and put the glasses back on his face. Hermione wanted to talk more, hug him more, but Harry interrupted her to go find Ron.

Harry grabbed her hand and they began running into the chaos. Hermione spotted Ron fighting alongside his brother George not far from them. She pointed at them for Harry to notice.

 

They got closer. Hermione took Ron in her arms. She heard the question George just asked her, yet she didn't know how to answer. She looked at him and opened her mouth. As the words escaped her lips, the remaining twin fell on the floor.

 

George went to Fred's body whereas the trio kept running towards the Great Hall. Harry pushed the thick french door open. As soon as she stepped inside, a green light illuminated the room and hit Harry right in the chest. He fell on the floor. Dead.

Her eyes looked for where the spell came from. Here he was, standing proud and tall. Tom Riddle. Not Voldemort, but Tom Riddle.

 

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She must have changed something. She took her wand out of her holster - GH - and pointed it towards him. Behind Riddle, she recognized Antonin Dolohov, the only one not wearing a mask.

His eyes opened in surprise and he called her last name, the only one he knew : Hortense. 

Another Death Eater turned around at the name and took off his mask.

 

"Kiddo ?!"

 

* * *

 

13.06.1943:

**\- 12 hours earlier -**

She woke up startled.

 

"Wake up !" Belone shouted at her while throwing pillows at her face.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, not completely aware yet of what today was. As she stared at the green canopy, she smiled.

 

_Tonight, Hermione, you're going home._

 

She hopped on the ground, flipped Belone off with a smirk and went straight to the bathroom. For the last couple of weeks, every time she took a step inside this bathroom she felt a shiver running down her spine. But today she didn't care because tonight she was going home.

 

The Great Hall was fully packed with chatting students. She spotted her friend arguing with a fellow Slytherin. Hermione walked towards him. As she arrived at his level, she stole the toast he was holding and sat in the middle of them.

"Morning." She smiled.

"Are you alright Grace ?" Isodor asked her.

"Well, I'm not." Pollux pouted. "She stole my fucking toast. Since when do you even eat ? One thing kiddo, Pollux doesn't share food."

 

She laughed carefreely. The lads around her were all looking at her strangely and Tom was puzzled.

"Oh you know the bird I was telling you about last night ?" Pollux caught her attention. "Well, I sha…"

Cole shoved him in the ribs. "You're talking to a lady here Pollux."

 

Hermione laughed again. "Thanks Cole. But the real question here is : Was it better than… you know… the last time ?"

Cole burst into laughter, knowing exactly what she was referencing to. 

"Shut up." Pollux replied. "You promised not to talk about it again."

"What happened the last time ?" Isodor interrupted.

"Well, let me tell you all about it." Cole smiled.

"Shut it." Pollux cut him.

 

As the three Slytherin started bickering, Hermione softly smiled.

 

_You're going to miss them._

_Especially this little prick._

 

* * *

 

29.05.1943:

 

"Here's to you Grace." She declared.

 

No one talked, no one moved. Except for Tom and his glass in the air. She drank her glass in one go, shoved it in Tom's hand.

"I hope you got what you wanted." She harshly whispered to him before passing past him towards her dorm.

 

She could hear her name coming from some of the lads' mouth. But one voice exceeded the others. "Grace !" Pollux was calling behind her. "Wait ! Let me explain. Grace !"

 

She arrived at the bottom of the girls' stairs and turned around to face him.

"Don't." She coldly said.

He was looking at her, not knowing what to do or say. She looked up and down. "You're just like them." She concluded before going up the stairs, leaving him alone.

 

* * *

13.06.1943:

 

**\- 10 hours earlier -**

 

"Hurry up kiddo. You'll be late and you've got a class with Dumbledore." Pollux told her as they walked down the corridors.

"Aren't you going to be late Pollux ?" She smiled at him.

"I've got a class right next to you."

"Actually we don't." Cole interrupted. "We're in the dungeons and we're definitely going to be late."

 

Hermione could see from afar the students going inside the classroom and Dumbledore greeting them at the entrance.

"Yeah, we should probably go to the dungeons." Pollux concluded. "See you after ?"

 

_You're going home tonight Hermione._

_You don't know if you'll see him._

_Smile at him and say yes._

 

"Sure Pollux." She smiled.

 

She walked past her transfiguration teacher.

"Miss Hortense." He greeted her. She stopped in her tracks to face him.

"Professor." She replied with a fake smile.

They were glaring at each other like nothing had happened but both aware of the lack of respect between them.

She walked past him and settle next to Belone. The professor stood behind his desk.

"I know it is the end of the year and you are all excited for holidays that is why today I have prepared you something a little different. Please keep an open mind."

 

As he said those last words, his gaze fell upon her.

 

_As if..._

 

The classes began, she took her quill and parchment and doodled. She got lost in her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 29.05.1943:

 

Her roommates had come back to the dorm an hour prior and the common room downstairs was surely empty.

She laid awake in her bed, the curtains drawn around her. She thought about what had just happened.

 

She had considered every possibility, and someone seeing this scar was one of them.

She had chosen a way to transform the scar into something else.

She had selected the day she would scarify her arm, once she knew she had to.

However, she had not planned Pollux. How she would become friends with him and his reaction.

 

Hermione heard glass shattering downstairs. She got up her bed, put some shoes on and went downstairs.

The common room was gloomy and a dark figure was sat in front of the chimney, his back against the couch. She put one foot first then the other and approached it slowly. She walked upon shattered glass.

"F-fuck off." She recognized Pollux drunk voice.

She continued and stood in front of the chimney facing him. He had his hair stuck to his forehead and his shirt torn. He rose his head. His left eye was swollen and purple and his right hand bloodied. He was sitting in the middle of empty bottles and broken glass.

"G-Grace ?"

"You're pathetic Pollux." She simply stated. Hermione turned around to go back to her dorm.

"Wait !" He called after her. He pushed on his hand to get up and hissed as the glass broke through his skin. She exhaled and helped him settle on the couch.

 

"You're a mess." She looked at him.

"I-I don't ev-even underst-stand why you're mad. I did nothing !" He mumbled laughing a little.

"That's the thing Pollux. You did nothing. You didn't stand up for me. You didn't even fucking say a word for me Pollux." She rose her voice.

"I did n-nothing ?!" Pollux pointed at his black eye. "Does it l-look like nothing to y-you ?"

"I can't do this." Hermione concluded. She turned around one more time and took a few steps towards the stairs.

"Don't leave. Don't leave me." His voice seemed to belong to a child, a scared and lonely child. She turned her head and saw his glassy eyes. "Not you too." He whispered.

 

"If everybody is leaving you Pollux, maybe you should question yourself." She spat then left.

 

* * *

13.06.1943:

 

A flashing pain got her out of her thoughts. She felt as if her head was about to explode. She had never experienced that kind of headache before. She looked at Dumbledore. Her chair creaked as she stood up. The room went silent.

"Excuse me professor." She said. "May I go to the infirmary please ?"

"Miss Hortense, this class is important." Dumbledore answered.

"I have a headache professor."

He kept looking at her.

"I need to go." She took her bag and left the classroom.

 

She walked a couple of minutes and her headache faded away.

 

_He hadn't tried since last time._

_Why now ?_

 

Hermione went outside and stood in front of the clock. It was almost twelve.

 

_You should go see Abe._

_Say your goodbyes._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

13.06.1943:

**\- 7 hours earlier -**

 

Tom entered the Great Hall for lunch and sat in the middle of the lads. Antonin was about to sit at his right, like at every meal but Tom stopped him.

"Don't Dolohov." He told him.

"What ?" The boy asked confused.

 

Tom didn't bother answering. "Parkinson." He called instead. "Care to join us ?"

The latter nodded and took Dolohov's place.

"Has anyone seen Grace since Transfiguration ?" Thorus asked. No one answered.

"Any plans for the holidays Parkinson ?" Tom casually asked.

"There is the World Cup this summer and I'm doing an internship with my father."

 

_Good to know._

 

The desserts disappeared and they all rose up. Tom nodded at Parkinson then left the room followed by the lads. Antonin grabbed his right arm. "Why did you do that ?"

"A Parkinson in our ranks wouldn't be so bad, wouldn't it Antonin ?" Tom answered.

"Are you sure you can trust him ?"

"If I offer him the right things, yes." Tom smirked.

 

* * *

 

29.05.1943:

 

"I hope you got what you wanted." She harshly whispered to him before passing past him towards her dorm.

Tom took a sip of his drink. The lads were all tensed and Pollux went after Grace.

"We fucked up guys." Thorus said.

"How ? Now we know the truth, we can all move on." Abraxas stated.

"It still doesn't add up." Antonin whispered in Tom's ears.

 

_No it doesn't._

 

"Who would do that ?" Edmund seemed disgusted. "It's messed up."

"It was repulsing." Antonin added. "I understand why she hid it." He sneered.

"Stop it Antonin. It's not funny."

"Come one Avery, it's even funnier. The all scene ? Cheering to herself, showing all of her scars. A little dramatic don't you think ?"

"Shut up Dolohov." Cole warned him in a menacing voice.

 

Tom turned around to witness the altercation between Grace and Pollux. She stormed upstairs and Pollux turned around and joined them. He took Cole's drink and finished it.

"I fucked up." He stated.

"We all fucked up." Isodor completed.

"She is mad at me."

 

Cassandre, passing behind the group, snickered. Pollux turned around.

 

"Isn't she just mad ?" The youngest Parkinson joked.

"Shut up." His brother barked.

"Like you just did ? When she clearly needed someone to stand up for her ? What a good friend you are." He taunted

 

His big brother grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the nearest wall. "I swear Cassandre, I'm going to hit you."

"At least you would do something."

 

His right fist moved from his own accord and connected with his brother's jaw. Cole stepped in between to prevent them from fighting but Cassandre shoved him aside and tackled his older brother to the ground, punching him in the left eye. A circle formed around them, Tom watched amused as he kept drinking his beverage. He witnessed Pollux getting the upper hand and losing all control. Tom wondered if it was due to the alcohol or the resentment he had for his brother.

 

Cole took Pollux by his shoulders and shoved him against a wall. "Stop !" He yelled. "Look at you Pollux ! Look at him !" He pointed towards Cassandre, resting on the floor, all bloodied. His nose was broken, one eye totally closed and bruised and a split lip.

 

Cassandre wiped the blood from his mouth. "Don't bother Cole. Not going to change anything. He just got what he wanted. Isn't it right Pol ? Always the attention seeker." He sneered and rose up. "Look at you Pol. I said bad words about her, you did nothing. I said bad words about you.." He chuckled. "Well, look at me. You don't care about anyone but yourself Pollux. Always the selfish bastard. So think about it Pollux, the only person who genuinely cares about you, except for Cole maybe, is probably crying in her bed at the moment. She finally realised who you really are. Just like I did. And she will end up leaving you. Just like I did. Just like everyone will."

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

13.06.1943:

 

**\- 5 hours earlier -**

 

Abe put a cup of tea on the counter in front of her.

"Are you going to stay here all afternoon ?" He asked her while cleaning glasses. "I know you've just took your OWLs, but don't you still have classes ? By the way, when it will be official that you passed them, I'm taking you out to celebrate."

"First, I'm paying to be here."

"No you're not" He cut her grinning.

"Well I could if you'd let me." Hermione chuckled. "Secondly, you can only take me out if there is a bottle of firewhiskey." She stayed silent for a bit. "Do you want me to leave Abe ?" She genuinely asked.

"Nah. I'd be bored if you weren't here. You're my saving Grace."

 

_He had already told you that before._

_But when ?_

 

"And stop drinking for Merlin's sake or you're going to end up like me." Abe smirked.

"Would that really be a bad thing ?" 

Abe rolled his eyes, but Hermione could see that he was touched by what she had just said.

 

_You're going to miss him so much Hermione._

 

She kept looking at him. She wanted to thank him. Thank him for having been here for her, for accepting her since day one when she was nothing but a stranger to everyone, for being her anchor in this timeline.

"So, what are you up to this summer ?" He asked.

"Well, I was planning to spend time with my grandmother." She lied. "And the French Ministry gave me tickets for the World Cup. So I guess I'm going to see some Quidditch this summer."

"If you have some time between game, you could always stop by and grab a drink." He almost casually said.

"Of course I'd come Abe." Hermione tried to smile at him in the most honest way possible.

"But you will have to pay though. If I keep giving you free drinks, I'd go bankrupt. Bring Cole and Pollux with you. By the way, how is Parkinson ? I have seen him since the last time."

"He's fine. Still a little shit, but he's fine." She chuckled.

 

Abe stared a her.

"What ?" She asked.

"I'm just glad you're friends again..."

 

* * *

 

 08.06.1943:

 

Hermione had sneaked out of the common room. She pulled the marauder's map out of her purse and whispered ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'.

Since the attack in January, all students were forbidden to go to Hogsmeade. Going out at night was the only solution for Hermione to see Abe.

 

She arrived at the pub and sat down at her usual stool.

"Hiya Grace." Abe greeted her. "What can I get you ?"

"Do you really need to ask ?"

 

He smiled and poured her usual. He put the glass in front of her and seemed to hesitate to talk. He inhaled and finally spoke up. "So, how's Po.."

"Please Abe." She cut him.

"Alright."  He dropped the subject. "Are you done with your OWLs ?"

"Took my last one this afternoon. Cheers to that."

 

He grabbed a shot glass, poured a limpid liquid and pushed it towards Hermione. She took it, winked and drank it.

"I'm sure you're going to pass them. You're way too smart." The youngest Dumbledore smiled.

"Afterall, I am the brightest witch of my age." Hermione said sarcastically.

 

The pub was not packed but some usual customers were sat at the back. While checking that everyone had their glasses filled, he kept talking to Hermione.

The door opened loudly and Hermione turned her head towards it to see who just entered. As she saw Pollux walking towards the bar and sitting two chairs away from her, she tensed.

 

"Evening Parkinson." Abe told him while giving him his usual firewhiskey.

"How are you doing Abe ?" The Slytherin asked.

"Good, good. Woodcroft's not with you tonight ?"

"Nah. He has a date. I hope he'll get stood up." He chuckled.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was mad at herself for wanting to chuckle with him. She pursed her lips and began to play with her signet ring. Abe was going back and forth between the two, chatting and pouring alcohol.

 

Every time he spoke with Hermione, Pollux snorted.

Every time he spoke with Pollux, Hermione rolled her eyes.

 

Abruptly he stopped. The two students looked at him.

"This is ridiculous." Abe stated. "You are both being ridiculous. Talk to each other for Merlin's sake."

"I don't want to talk to him." She replied like a petulant child. "And stop giving him drinks Abe, he is going to end up wasted."

"Oh you're talking to me now ?" Pollux intervened.

 

She turned her head. "I'm talking to Abe."

Pollux cocked an eyebrow.

"Fuck you." She spat.

"So articulate Hortense." He sneered.

"Well Parkison, talk to me in two more drinks and we'll see who is articulate."

"Fuck you !"

"No, fuck you."

"Stop !" Abelforth almost yelled. "Out. Now."

 

She faced Pollux and gave him a winning smile.

"No no Grace. You too. The both of you. Out. Now."

"But I was there first." She complained.

"You're both acting like children, you can come back in once you've grown up."

 

On this, he pointed his finger towards the door. "Out. _Now_." He repeated one last time.

 

Hermione reluctantly stood up and went outside. Pollux joined her a couple of seconds later and instantly lit up a cigarette.

They both stood outside, feet away from each other,  in complete silence.

 

"I can't believe you're talking to them." Pollux finally said.

Hermione turned her head, he was not looking at her. His gaze was focused on a bench not far from them.

"They did the exact same thing as I did. And yet you're talking to them." He kept going.

"That's where you're wrong Pollux." She snorted.

 

He turned around and took a step forward.

"Oh yes it is different." He snickered. "They stopped talking to you weeks before your birthday because of the rumours, they almost avoided you. I stayed."

"You stayed because you thought the rumours were fake Pollux, not because you didn't care about them."

"They were fake !"

"It doesn't matter Pollux ! And what if they were true ?"

"But they were not." He cut her.

 

She took a step forward too, took the cigarette he was holding in his right hand and threw it on the ground.

 

"What if they were true Pollux ?" She asked again.

He looked at her. His jaw was tensed and his eyes were cold. It was the first time she had seen him this serious.

"Answer the fucking question Pollux."

"I would have avoided you. At least in front of people. Maybe I would have talked to you a bit when we would have been alone. Once I would have graduated and taken the place as the official heir to Parkinson's family, I would have stopped talking to you. That's my fucking answer."

 

Hermione swallowed as she felt her heart breaking slowly in her chest. Even if she wanted to say something back, she couldn't. She had a lump in her throat.

 

"And your precious lads ?" Pollux spat. "They would have done the same. Because we are all raised the same. We are taught since the day we are born that we are above everyone else. The only people we see while growing up are other purebloods and their parents, teaching them the exact same thing. My father taught me that, and I instilled that to Cassandre. So what did you think Hortense ? Yes I fucked up. But once I knew for sure that the rumours were fake, I stood up for you. And your lads ? They watched me.

So, why are you talking to them but not to me ?"

 

"Because you were my friend Pollux !" She yelled, her voice breaking.

 Pollux's eyes widened.

 

"It shouldn't have mattered. Mudblood, Half-Blood, Pureblood. It's all the fucking same ! I thought you cared about me for me not for my blood."

 

She covered her eyes with her hands. "I showed my scars that night. They are fucking haunting me, especially this one. And you just stood there, eager to see what really was written on my skin."

 

She put her hands down and looked right at him. She pulled her sleeves up and exposed it.

 

"Written on my skin. Do you even understand what it fucking means ? Do you realise that someone fucking carved my arm ? You shouldn't have even cared about what's written. You should have only cared about the fact that someone did that to me."

 

She swallowed. "So don't talk to me about your education. It is just an excuse for your behaviour. You are old enough to think for yourself Pollux. You can make your own mind, make your own decision."

 

He let out a humourless laugh. "I've come to realise that no I can't make my own decision ! You're reproaching me a thing I can't change anymore. Say that to my fucking parents Grace and the fucking society. Blame them for the things they taught me. This is my only truth. It is the only thing I know. Maybe your parents have given you the perfect education of tolerance and understanding, but I fucking didn't."

 

She looked at him one last time then turned around and left.

"Where you're going ? We're not done." He yelled behind her.

She turned around and kept walking backward. "I am done Pollux. With this nonsense, with this conversation, with this friendship, with you." She turned once again and flipped him off.

 

She heard him laugh. A real laugh this time. She spun around.

"Are you laughing at me ?" She asked offended.

This sentence just made him laugh more.

"That was so dramatic." He managed to say between two laughs.

"You're kidding me right ?"

"I'm done with this conversation, with this friendship, with you." He imitated her.

"I don't sound like that !"

"I don't sound like that !"

 

A laugh escaped her lips. She put her hand on her mouth.

"See ? You can't be mad at me." He said.

"I can and I am. And you know what ? Let's be a little bit more dramatic. I'm leaving. And fuck you."

 

She walked back towards the castle.

"You can't walk away from our friendship." He shouted as she got farther away.

"Watch me !" She yelled back.

"You can't because, because. Hm… I still owe you a bottle !"

 

She turned around and kept walking backward, just as she did before.

"Well you… what ?!" She stopped. He was the one walking towards her.

"The first time we met, in the bathroom, you paid for all the drinks."

"It wasn't my money. I made a bet with the lads during the quidditch tryouts. I bet on you, you made it, I won the money. So we're even."

"Then ... you can't walk from our friendship because … because  you never showed up to one of my Quidditch games !" He arrived in front of her.

"It doesn't make sense !" She laughed, tears in her eyes.

"We don't make sense ! Since the beginning we don't make sense, we fucking met in the men's bathroom while I was taking a leak."

 

He was wrong. In this past, in this era, nothing made sense but this friendship.

 

Pollux put both of his hands on her shoulders. She didn't flinch.

"I am sorry Grace. I am arsehole, I use my education as an excuse for my shitty behaviour. I should have stood up for you from the beginning. I should have asked you how you were. By the way, how are you ?" He asked, chuckling. "Hey hey, don't cry." He wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I shouldn't have been jealous of you talking to the lads. I should have manned up and apologized. You're my best mate."

 

A silence settled between them. They were still in the same position, Pollux towering over her, his hands on her shoulders.

 

"Are you done then ?" He asked insecure "Are you done with me ?"

 

Hermione kept looking at him. She was taken aback by the vulnerability Pollux had just shown. She pursed her lips to fight back a small smile. 

"You ruined my dramatic exit." She finally said.

 

He laughed.

And just like that, she had forgiven him. It was simple, almost too simple. Maybe if she had not planned to go back, maybe it wouldn't have been this simple.

But it was like that. She couldn't be mad at him any longer.

 

He put his arm around her and they walked back to the Hogshead.

 

"Well you know there can't be two drama queens in this friendship kiddo. You've had your moment, let me have mine."

She grinned at him.

"We got kicked out of Abe's bar." Pollux stated. "He fucking kicked us out !"

"Right ?" She exaggerated. "He went too far."

 

They arrived at the front of the door, laughing. Pollux pushed it and let Hermione enter first.

"Grace ?" He said in a small voice. She turned around a small smile on her face. "Are we okay ?"

"We're more than okay Pollux."

"You're not going to leave me, right ?"

 

Hermione looked at him, well aware that in less than a week she would indeed leave him.

 

"Never Pollux."

 

* * *

 

13.06.1943:

 

**\- 3 hours earlier -**

 

 

They ended up chatting for hours. The conversation flowed easily.

 

Hermione looked at the clock behind Abelforth : 5PM. She had to go.

As she looked at him, she realised that maybe she didn't want to go.

 

"I don't want to go." She muttered. 

 

_You thought you wanted but it doesn't feel right._

 

"No one asked you to go." Abe remarked. "You can always stay for dinner if you want. We have shepherd pie tonight."

 

Hermione scoffed. "I have an errand to run." She got off her stool.

"If you feel like skipping another day, you know where to find me." He winked at her. "Anyway, see you on Saturday night. And remember you can't come tonight."

"Like every second Wednesday of the month Abe." She replied with a smirk.

 

She took a couple of galleons out of her purse and put them on the counter. Abelforth frowned.

"What do you think you're doing ?" He scolded.

"Just feeling like it's time to pay my tab."

 

The bartender went to give her back the money but Hermione took three steps backwards towards the door.

She put her hand on the doorknob and opened the latter. Before she went out, she turned around one last time.

"Abe ?" She called.

"Hm ?"

"Thank you."

 

He looked at her puzzled, not fully understanding what she meant by that.

 

"For the tea." She completed while gulping.

_For everything._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

13.06.1943:

 

**\- 2 hours earlier -**

 

Tom was sat in front of the chimney.

"Tom." He heard Edmund approaching. "We have a problem."

 

Tom didn't raise his eyes from The Prince by Machiavelli. "Not tonight."

"Tom." He pressed.

 

Tom finally looked at the Slytherin.

"We have a problem." Edmund repeated with clenched teeth.

"Tell me then." The prefect grunted.

"Not here."

 

Tom understood that it was something serious. He closed his books, put it on the table and got up.

"Call the lads." He ordered.

 

Edmund nodded then left to gather the others. Tom left the common room after checking the time. He got to the fifth floor and entered their usual classroom. He waited for the lads to join him.

They all sat around the table.

"What is it ?" Tom finally asked.

 

Edmund took a parchment out of his robes and handed towards him. Tom took it. He recognized Edmund's father signature at the bottom of it. He read it.

"So what ?" Tom scolded after finishing it.

"The last paragraph." Edmund explained.

 

Tom looked back, casually leaning on his chair : 

_"..._

_Our dear friend had decided to clean up her new house. I believe she will find some things she would want to get rid off.  I heard from her neighbour that she is looking for a new map. She had already thrown away her scale, according to her, it was off-balance._

_We are still waiting for the car boot sale's date. You and your friends might be interested in."_

 

"You are inviting us to a fucking car boot sale Rosier ?" Tom rose his voice.

"Isn't obvious ?" Edmund genuinely asked. "My father is talking about the government !"

"Come again ?" Tom stood straight in his chair and Rosier went by his side.

"Here." The Quidditch player pointed at the letter. "Our dear friend is Tuft. »

 

As the words left his mouth all the lads tensed.

 

"Her neighbour is Rockwood." He pressed.

"Rockwood ? The undersecretary ? Isn't he on her side ?" Tom asked.

"Only when it suits him." Dolohov intervened.

"Tom, listen to me." Edmund insisted. "The map is the minister of International Magical Cooperation."

"She wants to do what now ?" Isodor rose from his seat as he heard his father' job title.

"Sit down Avery." Tom reprimanded. "Continue Rosier."

"The scale is Antonin's dad. The current minister of Law Enforcement." Rosier finally finished.

 

A loud silence settled. No one moved. No one talked.

 

"So her new house is…" Edgard started but stopped as he realised what it meant.

"Her new house is the government." Tom completed. "She is doing a cabinet reshuffle."

 

The silence came back but for only a couple of seconds. Then chaos followed.

 

Tom took his head in his hands and stared at the letter on the hardwood table.

 

_I'm fucked._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

13.06.1943:

 

**\- 1 hour earlier -**

 

Hermione arrived in the common room. She sat on the couch. She laid comfortably. She fixed the painting in front of her, the one just above the chimney. She closed her eyes and inhaled.

 

* * *

 

13.06.1943:

 

"Kiddo ?!"

 

Hermione woke up with a start and took a large inspiration as if she had been drowning for the past hours.

 

She looked around her and found the common room. The Slytherin common room. Her breath was ragged and her hands were slightly shaking.

"I was back there." She mumbled still drowsy. "He-he died in front of me."

 

She closed her eyes for a minute and remembered her vivid dream. That what was she was going back to, she was planning on going back to hurt and death. She wanted to go back, but not to this.

Hermione had been stuck for a year, far from the raging war of her own timeline. She had been so focused on her plan that she didn't quite understand what it meant to go back home. To go back there.

 

Pollux touched her shoulder and she flinched. She remembered her dream. Pollux had been there and he had been on the wrong side of the war. He had stood next to him.

 "Calm down Grace. It was only a nightmare." He reassured her while delicately taking her hand in his. Hermione looked at his watch.

 

_You're already late._

 

"You look pale Grace." He stared at her. "Haven't seen you at dinner, you should eat something."

 

Hermione took this opportunity to excuse herself and leave. "I'm fine. I'm just gonna grab something to eat."

"Do you want me to come with you ?"

"No." She answered too quickly. He looked at her puzzled. "Go to bed Pollux, I'm fine."

 

They both stood up. Pollux smiled at her and turned around to reach his dorm but Hermione hugged him from behind.

"Hey kiddo, I'm not going anywhere." He laughed.

 

_But you are Hermione._

 

"I'll see you tomorrow right ?" He asked a smile still on his lips.

"Right."

 

He winked at her and left. She stood in the common room alone.

_It's time Hermione._

_You're finally going home._

 

Hermione looked one last time at the Slytherin common room. She took a deep breath, opened the door and left. The ink became alive. She inspected it and headed towards the Headmaster's office.

 

Hermione knew that tonight Dippet was not at Hogwarts. Once a month, Dippet went to Hogsmeade to take a drink, at Abe's.

 In front of the Gargoyle leading to the office, she remembered the front line of last week's newspaper showing the British/Irish league Quidditch results.

 

In her own timeline, Hermione had searched about the previous headmasters of Hogwarts. Each of them had a special way of choosing passwords. Dumbledore had chosen sweets' names. Dippet, however, had the habit to change it every month depending on the winner of the British/Irish league Quidditch.

 

That was why Hermione was standing in front of the Gargoyle, a slight smirk on her face.

"Puddlemere United." She declared.

The gargoyle did not move an inch.

"Puddlemere United." She repeated anxiously. "The Puddlemere United ?"

 

_Fuck._

 

She knew Puddlemere had won, she had read the paper. She knew it was Puddlemere. Her heart rate quickened and her hand became clammy.

 

_You know it's Puddlemere. Why isn't Puddlemere working ?_

 

She looked around her, checked the map to make sure no one was coming her way.

"Puddlemere United !" Hermione tried once again.

 

_Why isn't Puddlemere working ?_

_Think Hermione. Think._

 

She felt the blood pulsing in her temples from the anxiety. She didn't have all the time in the world. She had limited, months prior, the time of each task. She had already begun late and she was currently wasting time.

Suddenly something lit in her brain and a nervous chuckle escaped her lips.

 

_You're a fucking idiot Hermione._

 

"Puddlemere Union." She stated.

The gargoyle moved and she climbed the stairs.

 

They changed the name to Puddlemere United in 1968.

Hermione looked at her watch, she had a little less than five minutes to find out what she was looking for.

As she walked in the office, she reminded herself to be quiet and not to cast any light. The paintings were all asleep.

 

_Accio Harry's glasses._

 

Nothing happened. She waited. Nothing happened.

 

_Accio Harry's glasses._

 

She listened carefully for any sign that the glasses were locked somewhere and were trying to get to her. She heard nothing.

 

_Accio Harry's glasses._

 

Still nothing.

_They're not here. Hermione, they're not here._

_And you can't go home without them._

 

 

** PART II : THE DEFAULT IN THE PLAN **

****

 

"Fuck !" She whispered. She heard the paintings waking up. She quickly left the office and found herself in the empty corridor.

 

She paced in front of the door, her hands in her hair. She tried taking deep breaths to calm her. She stopped as she heard footsteps getting closer.

 

_Take it._

_You don't have time anymore. Take it._

 

She sought the phial in her purse and looked at the 5ml container. This phial was not as full as Harry's one. She knew it wouldn't last long. It was too soon to take it, but she had no choice. She downed it in one go.

 

As she looked at the empty Felix Felicis vial, she knew that luck was on her side and felt the need to go to the bathroom.

 

She felt at ease walking around not caring if she made any noises. She felt bold. She felt drunk on luck.

She walked slowly as she descended the three floors separating Dippet's office from where the Felix Felicis had decided to take her.

 

Hermione arrived in front of the second-floor girl's bathroom. The door opened in a small creaking. She entered.

 

There was a reason for her to choose the 13th of June to go back home.

 

"Hortense ?!"

She stayed still as she stared at Tom, bent over the lifeless body of Myrtle Warren. He stood up and shoved her against the wall. Tom put his wand underneath her chin.

 

She had prepared herself to see the corpse, yet she felt her stomach in knots.

 

"The fuck you are doing here ?" He barked. Tom's eyes were flying from Hermione to the door. Hermione, on the other hand, was staring at Myrtle's body.

 

Tom put more pressure on his wand. "Look at me." He snapped. "What are you doing here ?"

"I'm-I'm looking for something." She replied breathlessly.

 

There was a reason for her to choose the 13th of June to go back home. It was the only day she knew the chamber would be opened.

 

Tom put a hand in his hair and disheveled it. She had never seen him this way, startled, panicked and unprepared. Out of control. He had planned everything, she thought, but not her.

 

A mad laughed escaped from his mouth. "You are looking for something." He burst out laughing. "Let's find it together, shall we ?"

 

If Hermione had not been drunk on luck, she would have been terrified at this moment. Tom looked insane, spoke insane. He pulled her from the door and put his wand on her back.

"It's downstairs." He guffawed.

 

_It wasn't supposed to happen like that Hermione._

 

Tom hissed and stairs appeared from the hole in the middle of the bathroom.

 

"Come on then !" Tom almost yelled.

 

Hermione stiffened and put one foot on the first stairs. She felt Tom's wand in her back urging her to go faster. She took one last glance at Myrtle's body before it disappeared after the notice-me-not charm Tom cast on it.

 

"You made one." She stated.

"You do not know what you are talking about." He spat, rushing her downstairs.

"You just created a Horcrux."

"The first thing you think about is me making a Horcrux and not me killing a fellow student  ?" He scoffed.

"You were too curious about death not to kill someone one day."

 

They arrived downstairs. Hermione looked around her, it seemed cleaner than what she remembered her seventh-year. Tom pushed her and she almost fell on the ground. The slight tingle sensation she felt from the Felix Felicis had almost disappeared. She was almost out of luck when she desperately needed it.

 

They both arrived in front of a steel door. She remembered it. They had arrived. Tom hissed once again, and the door opened. Hermione felt as if her heart would burst out of her chest any minute. She slightly moved her left arm and felt the holster and her wand. She almost took it out but the remaining of the Felix Felicis told her not to. He pushed her inside the chamber. Hermione kept her eyes stuck on the ground.

 

"Look around Hortense !" He chuckled. "This is my legacy, the proof of my superiority !"

 

She refused to look.

 

"Look around !" He shouted. Hermione tensed even more. Tom took her by her shoulders and spun her around. She kept her eyes on the ground. Tom took her chin and rose her head. Hermione closed her eyes instinctively.

 

She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the silence that followed.

"You know." He stated under shock. "How ?" He put his wand back under her chin and repeated the question, this time while yelling.

 

She didn't answer.

 

He took a deep breath in order to calm himself. He didn't talk for a couple of seconds. His face went from uncontrollable anger to plain smugness.

 

"How are you going to find the painting if you do not open your eyes ?" She heard the smirk in his voice.

 

_That's why you needed to keep the Felix Felicis Hermione._

 

She gulped as she realised how fucked she was. Tom took her reaction as a victory for him.

 

"Of course I knew it Hortense. Since Christmas. You are not as subtle as you think you are. I know all about it. All about your plan."

 

_You doubt that._

 

"You can talk Hortense. You can even open your eyes. I won't call it." He smirked.

 

She slowly obeyed and looked at him. He looked proud. He couldn't show it to anyone, so he gloated at this moment.

 

"What are you talking about Riddle ?"

"Oh ! She talks !" Tom walked around her, his wand still pointed towards her. "What am I talking about ? Isn't it obvious ? I know what you want to do. It is quite clever actually." He stopped in front of her.  "I almost believed you."

 

Hermione was a little confused.

 

"You lost it Riddle." She simply said. "All that dark magic you just did. It messed you up."

 

"Oh no Hortense. You played it well. The poor orphan, the only survivor of a terrible attack with no witness. No one to testify. How lucky you are."

 

Tom looked at her, she didn't say anything.

 

"Nothing to say ? Fine, stop me if I am wrong then. I had my doubts at first, like everyone I believe. Then at Christmas, more precisely at Slughorn's party, I was almost certain. But once again, you played well. In January, fighting, killing and saving all of those students. I could almost say it was your coup de Grace. You had me there, you had everyone. For a couple of days. But it didn't match Hortense. Dumbledore was right. It didn't match."

Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of Dumbledore.

 

"Oh yes, that is the reaction I expected." He gloated.

 

_He heard ? He couldn't have._

 

"I hear a lot of interesting conversations, at night, when I do my rounds. This one was particularly captivating. You see, Dumbledore was sure that you had killed the man in the village. Slughorn, on the other hand, defended you. But, where it became interesting was when Dumbledore testified that you were the only one down there at his moment. Because he saw you. And you saw him with Grindelwald."

 

She clenched her teeth. Tom laughed and kept going.

 

"And I wondered why you did nothing back there. You told me you hated Dumbledore because he was doing nothing. Yet, you did the same. You did nothing."

 

"It doesn't mean anything." She replied.

 

"It means everything. It means that you were on his side from the beginning. It means that you came to Hogwarts with a purpose. And tonight, you are here to fulfill this goal, aren't you ? Find the painting, let your little friend come into Hogwarts thanks to a twin painting I believe Grindelwald owns. I always knew you had an agenda and I always told myself that I would figure something to do about you later. Now that I have all the answers, thanks to your silence, I think it is time to finish our little game, Hortense."

 

Everything went fast from that moment. She took three steps backward and withdrew her wand from her holster.

 

"Expelliarmus." Tom cast. Her wand flew to the other side of the room. He cast another one, Hermione fell back on the wet ground. She turned slightly her head behind her and noticed the basilisk's entrance. She turned back to look at him, panic in her eyes. Tom was towering over her, pointing his wand at her.

 

"Because we were playing a game. A game where I could have my answers. A game where I set the rules." He sent a diffindo and Hermione felt a little blood falling from the cut on her cheek.

 

" **Rule n°1 : I always choose the situation**." Hermione tried to get up but he cast a new expelliarmus and she felt once again on the ground.

 

" **Rule n°2 : There are only two players**." Tom smirked. "So do not worry, I will not call it."

 

Hermione tried to crawl towards her wand.

 

" **Rule n°3 : You do not get to run from the situation**." He continued. He flicked his wand and Hermione felt something holding her ankle. " **Rule n° 4 : You do not get to play me**."  She felt the grip on her ankle becoming tighter and pulling her backward towards him. "Once again Grace, you have played good. But not good enough. **Rule n°5 : I always win**."

 

She rose her head to look him in the eyes and she saw the pure madness within. She knew what it was about to do and she cut it short.

"C5." She whispered panicked.

"What ?" He asked entirely frantic.

"C5." She repeated, louder this time.

"We are not playing chess."

 

Tom looked crazy, out of his mind. He had just killed a student, summoned a basilisk and split soul in half. However, Hermione knew it was the time.

"We always are, aren't we ?" Hermione difficulty got up and showed him both of her hands in a sign of peace.

_You are stronger than he is Hermione._

 

At this moment something changed. The fear, marking her face a couple of seconds before, got replaced by confidence. Her body, fragile underneath the wand of Tom, straightened. Her head, lowered from the moment she stepped inside the chamber, snapped up and Hermione looked at him in the eyes.

 

"Before Christmas, we played and I chose to shift my Bishop to C5. I am sure you thought at that moment that I have made the wrong choice. I did, on purpose. Because if I had moved my Rook to E8. Three movements later, I would have taken your King. _Checkmate_." She continued.

 

She stopped talking and they stayed like that, in silence, facing one another. A smirk appeared on her face.

 

"I chose to lose that night." She took a step forward and slowly lowered her right hand. "But tonight Tom, I choose to win." She flicked her hand and her wand went flying in her hand.

 

_Expelliarmus._

 

She caught his wand with her left hand. She saw fear in his eyes.

 

_Impedimenta._

 

Tom fell backward, tried to get up but she cast another one.

 

"You told me to stop you if you were wrong. Let me stop you right there Tom. You are wrong and you were wrong all along." Hermione proclaimed.

 

_Diffindo._

 

Tom got a matching scar on his cheek.

"You should thank me Tom." Hermione bragged. "Nice legacy you've got there." She mocked wiping the blood off her cheek.

 

The chamber was dark, only illuminated by a skylight above the water a couple of meters away from them. She flicked her eyes towards the walls : they were bare. Actually, the chamber was completely empty except for the statues leading to the basilisk's entrance.

Hermione swallowed and tried to keep a straight face.

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. It's not there._

_You need to stall until you find a solution._

 

"Tell me, what was your reaction when you found out you were a Gaunt ?" She continued.

 

His eyes opened wide. "How did you… ?" He started.

"You're not the only one who knows things." She interrupted him. "Did you like my little gifts ? They turned out to be useful." Hermione showed the room with her hands. "The first one, I didn't even have to leave it somewhere for you to find. You stole it from me. Remember ? _Architectural Timeline of the Oldest Castle in Great Britain_. It caught my eye and I bought it just for you the day of the attack."

 

Tom got up quickly but Hermione made him fall back, once again.

 

"The second one was harder. First, because it was not the entire book that I wanted to show you but only a chapter. So I had to get creative. I used ink."

 

She saw something in Tom's eyes. He understood what she was talking about : the book he had found in the library at his favourite spot with an ink stain on it.

 

"Ah, you know what I am talking about." She lightly chuckled.

"Why ?" He asked. "Unless you needed me to open the chamber..." He realised

 

There was a reason for her to choose the 13th of June to go back home. Hermione needed him. But he wasn't supposed to see her.

 

Hermione smirked. "Did you know that in order to get into the Ravenclaw's common room, you need to answer a riddle ? Like…" She pretended to search for one. " _What gets broken without being held_ ?"

"W-what ?" She saw pure confusion on his face.

" _What gets broken without being held_ Tom ?" She repeated, smirking.

"A promise." He whispered as his eyes widened even more. "H-how d-di…"

"T-Tom" She changed her voice, mimicking the one of a now-dead girl.

"It was you !" He accused and stood up quickly.

 

She let him.

 

"Of course it was me ! Isn't it amazing what polyjuice potion can do ? I needed to show you the entrance. You needed help to find it and I provided. "

"You did all of that to lead me here. Why ? Was it part of your plan ?" Tom became angry as he realised he had been played.

"Yes." She replied. "But it is not the one you think about. I am no spy Tom. I have no plans about getting anyone inside."

_You were trying to get out._

 

"Which one is it then ?"

 

_Stall Hermione. Stall._

 

"You talked about subtlety earlier." She changed the subject. "You said that I was not as subtle as I thought I was. But the thing is that I can teach you a thing or two about it."

 

She liked using his first name, reminding him of his commonness.

 

"I knew about the article Tom." She started. "The one you tried to hide from me at the beginning of the year. Asking Thorus to stop me from going to breakfast to watch the Quidditch tryouts. It was clever but not subtle."

 

Tom got angrier by the seconds. He took another step forward but she cast a small curse to make him stumble back.

 

"Didn't you think about the possibility of someone warning me before ? Because Slughorn did. He showed me the article the night before just so I wouldn't be shocked the next morning. You wanted me to find out in front of everyone so you could test your little theory. Why ? Oh, it was a part of your game." She smiled at him.

 

Tom squinted clenching his jaw. "Just tell me where you getting at." He barked.

"Oh no. I listened to you when you were saying nonsense about my supposed plan. Now it's your turn to listen." She shut him up.

 

"I helped you at Christmas." She snorted. "Once again, you needed help. And once again, I provided." She paused then started again. "I am nothing but deliberate when I break things."

 

He furrowed his eyebrows. Hermione watched amazed as Tom really looked for the answer.

"You don't remember ?" She asked him. "I wasn't drunk. I broke a glass on purpose to get you out of a conversation. A conversation you didn't want to be involved in."

 

Tom understood. He said nothing.

 

"I thought I was not that subtle when I did that, but apparently it turned out that I was. You then threw me under the bus but it is another issue." She finished

 

"I knew all about the little mission you gave Abraxas, about finding every piece of information about me. That is why it came as a surprise when you took that much interest in my scar while knowing that I am a half-blood."

 

"So yes, I was that subtle." Hermione smiled at him. "And yes Tom, we were playing a game. But I created it."

 

A silence settled.

 

It was supposed to be easy. She knew that on this day, on the 13th of June 1943, Tom Marvolo Riddle would open for the first time the Chamber of Secret, release the Basilisk, kill Myrtle Warren and create a Horcrux out of this murder.

 

She just had to take the Felix Felicis just before getting inside, after retrieving Harry's glasses from Dippet's office. This liquid luck would have guided her towards the paintings without getting trouble from Tom or the Basilisk.

 

But she had not found the glasses and she wanted to get them back to Harry. So instead of letting go of the ideal of bringing them back to Harry, she fucked up.

 

Her plan was structured for a reason : for everything to happen in the right order. She had limited the time of each task so she would enter the chamber at the right moment. She arrived too early.

 

She had messed up.

 

_Your plan, The Plan has failed._

 

So here she was. Standing in front of Tom fucking Riddle. No painting in sight, no glasses around, no plan left, still stuck in time and no way to get back.

 

_What now Hermione ?_

 

"And the painting ?" She added. "It was a lure. There is no painting."

 

_There is no painting._

 

"Why did you do all of that ?" Tom finally asked.

 

And at this moment, Hermione faced a choice.

A choice she had never really let herself put more thoughts into.

A choice she was desperate to avoid.

A choice she didn't want to make but had to in order to stall time until she could find another plan.

 

So she said the only thing she could say.

 

"Isn't it obvious Tom ? I want to join you." She replied.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, here's chapter 13 (which was supposed to be chapter 15 at the beginning and Ara still has difficulities calling it chapter 13). 
> 
> This chapter is full of references from previous chapter, so here a little list if you didn't remember : 
> 
> \- The bet Hermione is referencing to while arguing with Pollux is in chapter 4 (during Quidditch Tryouts)  
> \- Pollux talks about their meeting (you can re-read it if you want in chapter 6)  
> \- The Felix Felicis Hermione drinks was stolen in chapter 5  
> \- The reference to C5 is related to chapter 8 ( & in this chapter Tom reacts to the move in is thoughts by saying "why did she do that ?")  
> \- Hermione bought the book Architectural Timeline of the Oldest Castles of Great Britain in chapter 10  
> \- The ink stain is in chapter 12  
> \- The scene with Hermione as Myrtle Warren is in chapter 12  
> \- The article Tom tried to hide from Hermione is mentionned in chapter 4  
> \- Hermione broke a glass during Slughorn's Christmas Party in chapter 9  
> \- In chapter 7, we learn that Tom had asked Abraxas to monitor Hermione
> 
> I hope we didn't forget something in this list !  
> If you're quite lost after this chapter do not worry :) The next one should be useful to get everything *wink wink*
> 
> PS : Brace yourself, Tomione is coming. 
> 
> Lots of love, 
> 
> \- DDM's Managers


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